Lauren Larson

There live among us people who take romantic rejection very well: I call them super-rejects. Like the rocks in the belly of the crocodile, rejections can pile up inside these super-rejects without causing any damage, until they are passed into the riverbed, unnoticed.

When you turn down one of these super-rejects, they do not send you a multi-text dirge. They do not spiral or throw themselves into the stiff, unrewarding embrace of whatever rom-com is playing on TBS. They experience a healthy moment of woe, and they move on.

The chillness of the super-reject often awes me, and then instantly unsettles me: Did he want me to break it off? But there have been a few times when Ive turned down a guy after a few dates, or even after a slurred pickup attempt in a bar, and hes gone off. The opposite of the super-reject is a guy I barely know who just cant let it go. That can be really scary. Like many women, I think about the day in 2014 when a young man killed six people and injured 14 more near the UC Santa Barbara campus to punish women for not being attracted to him. I think about a man I read about in November who used an app hed installed in his ex-girlfriends car to stalk herthe app also allowed him to control the cars stop-and-start function.

Granted, its just as scary when a scorned woman overreacts. Last year, a woman in New Jersey burned a mans house down after he reportedly booty-called her at 4:00 a.m. but fell asleep before she arrived. (The woman was intent on having a hot date anyway, wrote a New York Daily News reporter.) Female stalkers are almost as likely as male stalkers to threaten physical violence against their victims.

But men are far less likely to be stalked. According to the latest National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey from the CDC, one in 17 men says hes felt fearful or believed that he or someone close to him would be killed as a result of stalking, but one in six women has, and some women are even more likely to be stalked. According to the Department of Justice, 28 percent of American Indian and Alaska Native women have experienced stalking, compared with 16 percent of white women.

Thats why a super-reject is such a relief. A man who takes rejection in stride, or even one who pretends to take rejection in stride, is so attractive that it often makes one want to unreject him. (Of course, that should not be the goal of a rejection responsethe goal should be freeing yourself from a cycle of shame and self-judgment.)

I once had the pleasure of rejecting a super-reject. After two dates, I sent him my go-to: Hey!!! I had fun hanging out with you, but I just dont feel a spark here. Sorry!!! (I always gag at the earnestness of a spark, but there really isnt a less Bachelorette word.) Then I held my breath. He responded about 30 minutes later: Nooo!!!! Thanks for letting me know, I had a really great time as well. No worries!

I bet that when he doesnt get a job, he writes an email like that and they hire him a year later. Maybe well get married down the line. First, he nodded to his disappointment, which is cathartic for the reject and flattering for the rejecter, and he did it in a funny way. (Nooo, I should point out, is very different from NO.) When he said that hed also had fun on our dates, I stopped imagining him seething in a basement over the hours of his life that I, a tease, had wasted. He used a lot of exclamation points, which made him seem completely nonthreatening. No worries let us both off the hook. It is the breeziest, most final sign-off.

\"Rejection is bad, but theres no reason to make it even more painful by piling on embarrassments.\"

His was a particularly magnanimous response, but responding to a rejection like that doesnt just soothe the rejecter. An explicit rejection is an opportunity to reclaim your dignity. Some people can do that by not responding at all, but I think its helpful for everyone involved to acknowledge receipt. Heres how to handle several hypothetical rejections like the self-assured and laissez-faire super-reject we know you can be:

You got ghosted.

Everyone maintains the right to ghost until, say, date four. But it is the cardinal dick move, because it denies the ghostee the chance to politely, generously accept the rejection. The only way to keep your dignity when you get ghosted is to cut your losses and remain silent, because literally anything you say will appear mournfully desperate. Especially a 900- word rant about UGLY B****ES who think they can just GHOST men like ME.

You hit on someone in a bar, and they weren't into it.

The near certainty of immediate rejection is what makes flirting with a stranger so bold. If you take your shot in a bar and get rebuffed, just say, Sorry, have a good night! Do not approach her again. Do not say, Come find me later if you change your mind. Do not say, But I bought you a drink. If she darts to the bathroom, dont follow her to tell her how unconcerned with the rejection you are. Just disappear into the night. Hitting on a stranger isnt inherently a bad choice; its just the inability to accept a rejection that gets people into trouble.

You received a "no spark" text after a few dates.

Use the formula of the super-rejects text above. First, briefly and cheerfully acknowledge your disappointment (Bummed to hear that!). Thank the rejecter for being honest and, implicitly, for not ghosting you. Then deliver a final-feeling sign-off: Good luck with [that thing she talked about for three hours]! Delete her number, then spend the next 15 minutes cataloging her faults in your mind. Watch an episode of King of the Hill. Move on.

<a href="https://www.menshealth.com/fitness/a31195173/kumail-nanjiani-buff-interview/" id="3c4cb9a4-d496-3290-ac5e-94abab5c4ff0"> You tweet at Kumail Nanjiani a lot </a> , but he still loves his beautiful, funny wife and still hasn't noticed you.

Rejection is bad, but theres no reason to make it even worse by piling on embarrassments. Nobody has ever regretted not sending an angry missive in response to a ghosting or a disappointing text. Be the mighty crocodile. Fill yourself up with rejection rocks until you can digest an entire capybara in a single day. Take a tenuous metaphor to its logical conclusion!

Just dont send that indignant text.

The Secret to Dealing With Rejection and Moving on

Crocodiles often swallow rocks, which can then tumble around harmlessly in their stomachs for years. A bellyful of rocks may even help crocodiles control their buoyancy and digest prey. (Theres a point to this, I promise.)

It was July 2003, and trucks were getting blown up every day in Iraqinsurgents often dropped grenades from overpasses. Bobby Somers, a 23-year-old specialist in the U.S. Army, sat behind the wheel of the second beat-up Humvee, fondly code-named Bertha. Clad in tan fatigues, he had one hand on the wheel, the other on a machine gun pointed out the window. A tiny earbud snaked into his left ear, pumping 50 Cents Get Rich or Die Tryin album from a CD player tucked beneath his seat. Somers had driven thousands of miles like this without incident, and he felt invincible.

As the trucks emerged from another overpass, Somers saw the orange Mirinda soda can clink, clink, clink across his trucks hood. In a split second, he registered that the can was cut open, with a pineapple-shaped grenade inside. He saw light shoot from the cracks as it blew up.

The blast shattered Berthas windshield, shooting glass into Somerss face and ears. Because the truck was moving at such high speed, the wind blew a lot of shrapnel away from him. He survived and returned to duty soon after.

That was the first time Somers almost died. The second time was the following January. Now with a little more armorhed started wearing his neck protectorSomers was driving again when someone fired a howitzer. He doesnt remember much after that. It felt like God had a bat the size of my body, he says. The shell pushed the Humvee over more than a full lane as it exploded.

Somers woke up a few minutes later in a panic. He thought he was late for high school football practice. Then he saw the gunpowder, the dirt, and the blood. He was taken to a field hospital. His first sergeant sat next to his bed, shaking.

After both attacks, Somers was offered a medical discharge, but he stayed. I remember when I got back into that truck, I was crying, he says. I didnt want to drive out the gate. But I was more scared to let people know I was scared.

Which brings us to another time Somers nearly died, years after hed finished his tour, while at his home in Texas. He went into his bathroom, put a gun in his mouth, and almost pulled the trigger. Fate had intervened twice to save Somerss life. Now he would need a different kind of help.

"I WAS A SOLDIER," Somers, 39, says on the day I meet him, as if that somehow explains everything at once. Were at Performix House in Manhattan, the mother ship of Performix, a brand that began as a line of supplements and has grown to include a vast elite gym.

Walking into Performix House is like throwing open a warehouse door to a secret, futuristic special-ops training facility. Fit men and women, almost all wearing gray and black, are chatting and idly stretching everywhere. Somers looks like everyone else at Performix Houseintimidatingly built and endorphin-cheerfulexcept that he has way more tattoos. He started getting them to cover scars, he says, pointing to a shiny spot on one arm where the ink didnt take.

Somers came to Performix through a foundation run by founder Matt Hesse called FitOps. The group operates a three-week program that teaches veterans to apply their skills to personal training. Somers now volunteers as FitOps head chef.

I was a soldier. That partly explains why Somers felt duty bound to stay and protect his comrades despite his injuries, why he never complained when he started to feel afraid of going outside the gates, and perhaps how he compartmentalized his trauma almost to the point of self-destruction. It doesnt explain how he survived his inner monsters: PTSD and traumatic brain injury from both attacks.

Thats where Matt Hesse comes in. Hesse, 42, transitioned out of active duty when his mother was paralyzed in a car accident, but he wanted to help his fellow veterans. He founded FitOps in 2016 and has since enrolled more than 300 vets. In week 1, personal trainers talk about the industry. Week 2 covers marketing and business practices. Week 3 involves practicing client assessments, doing mock job interviews, and prepping for the C.P.T. (certified personal trainer) exam.

The true game changer, however, is what Hesse and Somers call the circle of tears. Every night, Hesse gathers the class, roughly 40 men and women, and invites them to describe not only why they are there, but what led them to this point in their journey. As in an AA meeting, its freeing for veterans to tell their stories to people with shared experiencestheres no judgment and total understanding.

When Somers arrived for his training in 2017, hed spent 12 years trying to distract himself from his mental pain: with classes, and with drugs and alcohol. In the circle of tears at FitOps, he faced it head-on.

There were issues before the attacks. Somers grew up in El Paso, Texas, among drug cartels and gang members. He was the child of an affair, and his skin was darker than his siblings. People called him cerillomatch in Spanish; they meant he looked like a burnt matchstick.

Somers recalls being beaten. He remembers using bleach in the shower in an attempt to lighten his skin. I thought all brown kids got treated that way, he says.

He did look up to an uncle, a veteran who had joined a cartel. He saw his uncles beautiful house, his car, his wife, and his wallet, fat with cashalways cash. Thats what Im going to do, Somers thought. Ill be a gangster, and then a soldier. When Im done, I can go be a gangster again.

When he got to Iraq, all Somers cared about was being badass. That was what grit meant to him. His unit called their base San Quentin, because there wasnt much to do except lift weights before missions. He could bench 315 pounds, but his first sergeantthe one who later cried next to him in the hospitalcould bench 400. Somers wanted to catch up. That was literally one of the biggest things I was worried about, he says now with disbelief.

In July 2004, seven months after being blown up a second time, Somers returned to the U.S. I was still so worried about dying every day, he says of his overseas deployment. It didnt hit me until I had nothing to do.

He began seeing doctors about his injuries but wouldnt be diagnosed with PTSD and a traumatic brain injury until 2011. In 2005 he attended recruiting school, and for the next three years he worked 18-hour days as a military recruiter in Upland, California, trying to keep his mind occupied. There he met his now wife, Nicole, who was also in the service. In 2010 he moved to Fort Bliss, Texas, where he was given a medical retirement. Next came welding school, and after he graduated, he enrolled in culinary school.

Somers started working as a private chef, cooking healthy meals for clients at gyms and for some reserve soldiers. One day, one of themarriving with a chaotic carful of dogs, as godsends often dotold him about FitOps. She said it was offering free certifications for physical trainers. (Not quite: FitOps is free, but certifications are hard-earned.)

By August 2017, he was married and had kids. Somers thinks often about the suicide of Linkin Park singer Chester Bennington, and the video that Benningtons wife posted of the day before his death, in which hes laughing and playing with his family. He thinks about Robin Williams. That dude was supposedly the happiest guy in the world, he says. But like with me, sometimes the voices just get so loud.

When they got too loud for Somers, he put a gun in his mouth. He only stopped himself because he realized he hadnt said goodbye to his daughter that morning. He could wait a minute. He learned hed been accepted to FitOps that day. It could wait just a minute more.

WHEN HESSE FIRST MET Somers, the tattooed vet was crying under a table in the FitOps barracks. On its surface, FitOps gives veterans new practical skills, but Hesse also credits it with helping them open up to one another about tough experiences. Somers had struggled to share his story, and the prospect of facing trauma overwhelmed him.

Bobby Somers in uniform in 2000, before surviving two roadside attacks in Iraq.

He had an extreme loss of purpose, combined with several brain injuries from war, says Hesse, who has become close with Somers. And his story goes back further even than war. He was dealing with what I call multiple compartmentalizations.... The thing that the military teaches you very well, through excruciating fitness and physical pain, is how to compartmentalize.

Somers had been a master compartmentalizer since childhood. In the Army, that was a strengthit allowed him to climb back behind the wheel after getting blown up. But when he returned from Iraq, it became a weakness. Bottling up any trauma can be destructive. When you get home, if you dont unlock those compartments and deal with them one by one, eventually they will overtake you, Hesse says. Thats where suicide happens.

FitOps, which counts zero suicides among its alumni, cracked Somers open like that first grenade did. For most of his life, he had been motivated by men around himhis cartel-wealthy veteran uncle, or his hardcore first sergeant. In telling his story, and seeing how other people were affected and moved to tell theirs, Somers found his own strong sense of purpose.

To keep acting like I dont have these conversations in my head is stupid to me, he says. He still has suicidal thoughts sometimes, but he talks about them readily, always in unvarnished language. People like to be like, Well, you know, a soldier might want to hurt himself. Say suicide. Thats what kills an average of 17 soldiers a day, according to 2017 data from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs.

Somers now volunteers as the head chef and a program ambassador at FitOps and proudly sheds tears and emotional baggage.

In Hesses terminology, this is called creating a bigger blast radius: The more one veteran can learn to open up, the more others in his or her community might feel okay doing the same. Somers cries often now. He doesnt wipe the tears away or try to hide them. While we talk at Performix House, they flow freely down his cheeks.

After graduating from FitOps, he stopped searching for the next thing. He has since become an ad hoc FitOps spokesman, recently telling his story in an online testimonial alongside John Cena, a vocal and financial supporter of the mission.

My job, till I die, is to let men know that we have tear ducts, just like an exhaust pipe, Somers says. Ive had the gun in my mouth, he says in the video, tearing up. Lately, more veterans have been approaching Somers in tears. Big dudes, like big muscle dudes. And theyre like, Thank you. Hugging me. Crying. Maybenot even maybethats what Im here for.

FROM ABOVE, YOU WOULD have seen two battered Humvees streaking down a rutted freeway, one behind the other in the center lane, surrounded by miles of Iraqs parched terrain. As they approached an overpass, one moved into the far-left lane and the other moved far right. Afterward, the trucks weaved back into the same lane.

This Iraq War Vet Cheated Death 3 Times. He's Proud to Cry About It.

Army fit is still a few minutes behind that guy. Army fit is in uniform, wearing tactical boots, and carrying a 35-pound pack on his back. Hes maintaining a steady pace up the hillchugging, in the most machinelike sense of the word. His fists are clenched, but theres no sign of struggle on his face. Hes staring straight ahead up the hill. What the fuck, an onlooker says as the man runs by. You shouldnt be able to move that fast, for that long, with that pack on your back.

His name is Marc Beaudoin. Hes a 31-year-old Army captain and attorney with the Judge Advocate General Corps, and hes trying to win the military heavy division of the Bataan Memorial Death March, a marathon-length race through the high desert of White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico. Beaudoin was fairly competitive as a distance runner when he was younger, and hes still fasthe recently ran two miles in 11:22 during a physical-training test. Beaudoin is six-one, and his build doesnt hint at his speed. In a pure running event, Im a little bit heavy to compete against guys that are 125 pounds, he says. When hes <a href="https://www.menshealth.com/fitness/a19515616/top-fitness-trend/" id="effe7dbd-0f96-3478-aab8-4390cffe77c0"> rucking </a> , hes unrivaled. He has the size to carry the packs weight without much difficulty and the grit to do it without complaint. Today, his miles are closer to ten minutes, which is like a four-minute mile by Bataan standards.

Marc Beaudoin, Army, Fort Hood, Texas (individual military male heavy, winner).

The annual race draws thousands of military personnel and civilians, who compete in separate divisions according to how much weight theyre carrying: civilian light, military light, civilian heavy, and military heavy, with a separate team category in each division. The march is a celebration of the survivors of one of Americas grisliest military defeats and a memorial to those soldiers who didnt make it, but its also an homage to something else: the thing that separates Army fitness from Just Do It! civilian fitness. The march makes Tough Mudder and Rugged Maniac races look like empty, commercialized spectacleslike something you do to get a picture for your Tinder that makes girls think youre hardcore. It also makes those races look really easy.

Nowhere else on the course is the difference between the civilian and military divisions starker than on this hill. The marchers are approaching mile 12. Beyond them, the vista is like a desktop background image. A morning haze is rising from the desert, the sky is a dry, cloudless blue, and the hillside is covered in yellow wildflowers and photogenic cacti. In the foreground, a mancivilian lightwalks a few paces, hunching a bit with each step. He looks like one of those diagrams that show the evolution of man, but in reverse. He stops walking and crouches by the side of the road. Ive thrown up twice, he says when I offer him the remnants of a bottle of water. I think I woke up with the stomach flu. He offers the bottle back to me and I tell him to keep it. He straightens and begins to walk again, slowly climbing the hill to the next water station.

NOT A SPECTATOR SPORT: Most of the course is inaccessible to onlookers, denying marchers the adrenaline of an audience, but some spectators do find spots from which to takin in the suffering.

The Bataan Death March followed the surrender of 76,000 Filipino and American troops on April 9, 1942, after the Battle of Bataan. For more than three months, those troops had been holding out against the Japanese on the Bataan Peninsula, in the Philippines. They were dramatically outnumbered and under-rationed, exposed to assault from above, and weakened from within by a suite of unpleasant diseases. Back in the U.S., The New York Times spun their defeat as a symbol of American perseverance. Bataan is lost; but generations from now the word will be remembered, the paper reported on April 10, 1942. It will stand then, as it stands now, for high courage in the face of hopeless odds. It will stand for the finest kind of self-discipline.

In the following days, the odds would become even more hopeless, the self-discipline even finer. After the Allied troops surrendered, Japanese soldiers marched them, already depleted, for 66 miles in brutal heat. They gave them very little food and water, and they beat and executed stragglers. The survivors were sent to prison camps.

Christopher &quot;Aggie&quot; Agullera, Air Force (ret.), Las Vegas (individual civilian male heavy).

A trial commemorative march, in 1987, was the project of a New Mexico State University Army ROTC cadet from Las Cruces, Ray Pickering. (The event did not officially memorialize the Bataan Death March until 1988.) The race was not situated in New Mexico to approximate the terrain in the Philippines: Whereas the original Bataan marchers slogged through steamy jungle, the area surrounding White Sands Missile Range is parched and scrubby, though still hostile in its own right. Rather, because many soldiers in New Mexicos 200th Coast Artillery died in the Battle of Bataan and the march, it seemed fitting to honor them.

For many in the Army, the original Bataan Death March serves as a reference point for the suck. Daniel Huddleston, a 33-year-old Air Defense NCO who raced for the first time this year, is the first person to introduce me to the Army mantra Embrace the suck, which he likes to shout at recent Army initiates when theyre struggling. In his book Embrace the Suck: A Pocket Guide to Milspeak, Colonel Austin Bay translates the term: The situation is bad, but deal with it.

When I ask Huddleston where the line is, fitness-wise, between civilian and soldier, he says he sees people transform about a year into their first unit. Until then, theyve been training and gaining the tools to do their jobs, but they havent really experienced the suck. Its not just your build and muscle groups, he explains. Its the fortitude you have. If you have a good leader who pushes you into the suck and really kills you, when you get into those situations when most people are quitting, you can say, You know what? Ive been through worse.

Huddleston calls the memorial march the worst ever, citing the gravel, dirt, sand, and six-mile-long ungodly hill. But he points out that marching 26.2 miles with support along the way pales in comparison to marching 66 miles with no water stations. The Bataan marchers were sleep-deprived, sick, and demoralized, and many of them had been tortured. It was a victory as far as what were taught in the military: You never give up, you never stop, you always try to win. To be able to do that in that state of captivity, with no training, no nutrients, no nothingthey were just about dead before they even startedis a huge victory in the life of a soldier, says Huddleston. I dont know why the civilians are doing it.

Why indeed. Given the difficult terrain, a personal record in the race is unlikely even for those in the civilian light division. Most of the course is inaccessible to spectators. White Sands Missile Range is a schlep. Still, thousands of civilians join the march every year. Some have a connection to the military, but many are just here to experience the suck.

Caden Cooper, a 17-year-old aspiring marine, Chicago (individual ROTC male light). &quot;On my pac, I carry the names of fallen soldiers from the 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion. Some were family friends.&quot;

MARCHERS WHO SEEK to maximize the suck are welcome to arrive at the designated campsite at White Sands Missile Range several days beforehand. When I arrive, the campsite is already filling up. I pop my tent near a dark green one that looks retrofitted for the apocalypse. Its tethered to the ground by at least 30 guy cables, and two heavy-duty extension cords run from its base to the only outdoor outlet. The tents owner, tall and weathered and as doomsday-ready as his shelter, strolls over to say hello. He gestures to a tent nearby, so tall and broad it looks like a moon bounce. Whole bunch of young people in there with their dad. Ive had to pound their stakes in a few times already, he says, raising his eyebrows at me as if to say, Civilianspsh. Psh, I say.

The next morning, I unzip my tent and a sheet of wet snow falls in on me. The bases beige buildings have disappeared behind a beige snowy fog, and I look out across a brutalist hellscape. All I can see through the snow is jagged, miserable terrain. More for warmth than reportorial duty, I set out for the Las Cruces Convention Center, where participants have gathered to pick up their packets and Death Marchbranded swag. Depending on their high school curriculum, most Americans know that the word Bataan carries some gravity, and its strange to see it printed on the typical marathon goodies for sale. (Almost as strange as when a woman asks me cheerfully, Are you here for the death march?) One man walks by in a STRAIGHT OUTTA BATTAN shirt.

Near the entrance to the Convention Center, three scales hang from the horizontal beam of an ominous-looking white wooden trestle. A hook hangs from each scale. Marchers add weight to their rucksacks with steel plates from GORUCK and with rice and other food that they can donate at the end of the race. To march in the heavy divisions, your pack must weigh a minimum of 35 poundspacks are weighed at the finish line, and any marchers whose packs weigh under 35 pounds are disqualified. That weight cannot include water, rocks, logs, or anything else that marchers might pick up from the trail toward the end of the march. A young man with a tight crew cut kneels to rearrange his pack. I want to get as close to 35 as I can, he explains. Im trying to get under six hours.

Many marchers fill their packs with food, which is collected for donation in large bins at the finish line.

Several elderly survivors hold court at a table next to a handwritten sign that reads survivors. James Bollich, 98, eats a brisket sandwich with a heaping side of chips, and marchers drift by the table, stopping to shake his hand, take photos, and make reverent small talk. His daughter, Sally Bru, stands by with several uniformed men and women who have been tasked with assisting the attending survivors but who now find themselves redundant in the face of Bollichs extreme spryness. He lives alone. He drives. He grocery shops. He goes to the store, Bru says. When I ask how I, too, might arrive at 98 with her fathers energy and clarity, she tells me that every day he uses a manual treadmill with an incline for 15 minutes while he watches the Weather Channel, and he does hundreds of reps with two 5-pound weights. I look over at Bollich, who is devastating the last bite of his sandwich. This is the third year Bollich has attended the race. He really looks forward to this, Bru says. When he was at the finish line, it was funny because hed say, Howre you doing? And theyre all just dying, of course, but they cant tell him that. She cackles.

A man with calves the width of my torso walks by in uniform, and I feel unsettled, wondering what kind of marathon would make that guy just die.

The medical tents along the course see steady traffic all day, mostly from blister sufferers.

EARLY THE NEXT morning, marchers slowly trickle into the starting corrals. Some of the military teams sit on the ground, leaning on their packs. Behind them, the civilians try to keep warmin spots there is still snow on the ground. Huddleston and his five team members look relaxed and awake, even though they woke up at 2:30 a.m. to arrive in time for the opening ceremony. Members of teams, Huddleston explains, must finish the race within 20 seconds of one another. If they dont, theyre disqualified. I ask who the weak link is. Me, says an extremely tall man carrying a flag. Were just trying to finish, Huddleston says jovially. Rather than starting at a run, theyre planning to march at a consistent pace, remaining no farther than 15 feet apart.

By the time most of the marchers have made their way out of the endless traffic jam leading to the missile range and into the corrals, its past 6:00 a.m. and the sky is glowing. Speakers are blasting Sean Householders The Warrior Song (Feel no fear, know my pride / For God and country Ill end your life). Parachutists leap from a plane and spiral through the air. A real cannon fires. At any other event, these things would seem panderingmood-setting touches for people playacting toughness for a morning. But in a military context, with a giant flag waving overhead in the sunrise and veterans with prosthetic limbs preparing to march, the scene is movingly hardcore.

FIELD HOSPITAL: Marchers use the medical tents along the course for shade as much as for first aid. The most prevelant condition among marchers: blisters.

The start itself feels almost anticlimacticmost things feel anticlimactic after cannons and parachutists. Instead of the adrenaline-fueled crush forward that usually accompanies the starting gun at a marathon, most people just walk.

Beaudoin bursts forward. His goal is to run at least the first 18 miles. He cycles through the strategies that have carried him through other races. He counts every hundred steps, looks up, then counts the next hundred steps. He picks out different landmarksa car, a tree, a bridgeand thinks to himself, Im going to get to that point, then well reassess the situation. Ill run there, and then if Im tired at that point, Ill walk.

He doesnt walk until hes halfway up that six-mile hill, a little more than ten miles into the race. My calves are already hurting just from spectating. Beaudoin is march-jogging up the hill. The sun is beating down now, and hes drenched in sweat. Its too depressing to look up to see how much hill he has left, so he keeps his eyes on the road. He knows that with a heavy ruck, tiring himself out too early in the race will doom him later. He reaches a particularly steep portion and slows his pace for a few strides, taking deep breaths, then starts running again. Finally, he reaches the infamous sand pit.

Stretches of the sand pit are the consistency of a dirt road, but others are like beach dunes. You have to kind of walk with your hips, so you dont bend your legs all that much, Huddleston explains. If you do, youre going to burn every single muscle group in your legs. In the sand pit, Huddleston and his team keep their lizardlike strides in step, following some shared inner metronome. Theyll finish fifth in the military coed team division. Beaudoin, ignoring the pain, takes the sand pit at a run.

Kenwoo Kim, from Lewisville, Texas, after finishing the 2019 Bataan Memorial Death March at the White Sands Missile Range in White Sands, New Mexico, Sunday, March 17, 2019.

Beaudoin stops at every water station and drinks as much as he can, but he still feels his muscles cramping. When he reaches the sand pit, each calf is knotted in a baseball of pain. He can feel his muscles tightening even more, so he backs off from his charging pace. Then he worries that someone might pass him and lengthens his strides again. Hes four miles away from the finish, and he thinks of the out-and-back eight-mile runs he does every Monday. Four miles left, so Im at the turnaround, he thinks. All I have to do is run back home. Four miles. Thats too easy.

He doesnt stop running until he crosses the finish line and sees his wife and kids. He collapses on the grass, taking deep breaths. Give him some air, his wife, Morghan, tells their older two children as they cautiously approach him. She bounces their baby on one hip, unconcerned as Beaudoin writhes on the ground. He wins everything, she says simply. Beaudoin is as close to horizontal as the rucksack allows. He unstraps himself. Hes had the pack cinched tightly for the last four hours to keep it from bouncing while he runs, and as the blood rushes back into his limbs, the real pain arrives.

IN THE COMING days, the legend of Marc Beaudoin grows and grows. The day after the march, the gate for my flight from El Paso to Dallas is so packed with marchers that when the airline staff announces advance boarding for military, at least a quarter of the passengers get up to board. The guy who won it is an Army dude. He trained for this carrying a pack in a bunch of marathons, one man says to another, who responds, He did it in like 4:37. Ran the whole time. Beaudoins actual time was 4:35.

The opportunity to witness real toughness is a big reason civilians participate. The race is the antidote to the glitzy endurance scene. The marchs commercial sideSTRAIGHT OUTTA BATAANis somewhat defused by the memorial nature of the event, and by its difficulty.

From left, Frank Delatour and Alex Haug take a rest while waiting for their running mates near the finish line.

Civilians fetishize Army fitness in part for its aesthetics. Sure, we covet the warrior bod the Army ads promise us. But theres something else that were drawn to. We want to be in one of those camo tents at the campground, parked in close circles. We dont want to suffer alone; we want to suffer with a team, like Huddleston and his co-marchers. Today, fitness is often marketed to us as something to be slotted in around workin 45 minutes you can zap every muscle group!and its easy to forget that there are other reasons to work out besides shapely biceps.

My friends who were athletic as kids, theyve gotten older, theyve got their job, theyre fulfilled in their lives, but theres just this one element that theyre missing, Beaudoin says. Its the camaraderie and the togetherness that you get being in the Army. I think that a race like this gives those people a glimpse into that. Just being a part of something greater than themselves.

For however long it takes them to finish the march, civilians can imagine themselves part of the fraternity of the suck.

FIT AND ARMY FIT are not the same. Fit is a man in matchy-matchy running clothes that breathe and neon shoes that have great arch support. Fit is barely sweating as he reaches the top of a six-mile hill.

The Toughest Race in America Is the Bataan Memorial Death March

He has the unvarnished wisdom of a bartender in a fishing town, for one thing. With his 2016 mega-bestseller, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Subtle-Art-Not-Giving-Counterintuitive/dp/B01I29Y344/ref=sr_1_1" id="3733e4f7-d370-3b7b-aa4e-d407f09d267a"> The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck </a> , Manson set out to contradict everything all the other self-help books were saying. If other self-help books say you're special, I'm going to write a chapter called You're Not Special. If other self-help books tell you to believe in yourself, I'm going to tell you to not believe in yourself. If other self-help books tell you just say yes, I'm going to write a chapter that says, just say no.

Author Mark Manson's Shady Past and Bright Future

The Subtle Art has sold over six million copies. At press time, it still tops the New York Times bestseller list in its category, and Mansons recent follow-up, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Everything-cked-Book-About-Hope/dp/B07NXWC9V5/ref=sr_1_1?" id="7b6ed8dc-158c-3cc6-a23f-b4e65ac6b06f"> Everything Is F*cked </a> , has been on the bestseller list for 13 weeks. His blog, MarkManson.net, boasts over one million monthly readers, with half a million paid subscribers.

Still, Manson, 35, has an aura of approachability. It could be his soft, friendly-looking features, or the way he looks comfortable in every chair, even when hes onstage. It could be the swearing. At first I think the fucks sounds a little forced, in the context of his latest books titleslike a kid who swears because he knows its going to get a rise out of his mom. But the curse words become more frequent when Manson is talking passionately about something, and less frequent when hes considering every word. Hes just a swearer.

In his books, Manson flays himself: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Subtle-Art-Not-Giving-Counterintuitive/dp/B01I29Y344/ref=sr_1_1" id="0e1ca72b-4e6e-3ad1-a085-a5ff4c3f3d21"> The Subtle Art </a> , in particular, draws heavily from Mansons own highs and lows. Some moments are funny, and some are unexpectedly gutting, as when he describes his friend Joshs drowning when Manson was a teenager. Joshs death marks the clearest before/after point I can identify in my life. Pre-tragedy, I was inhibited, unambitious, forever obsessed and confined by what I imagined the world might be thinking of me, Manson writes. Post-tragedy, I morphed into a new person: responsible, curious, hardworking. I still had my insecurities and my baggageas we always dobut now I gave a fuck about something more important than my insecurities and my baggage.

Its feelingspeak, but its anchored by raw storytelling (and the occasional fuck). Everything Is F*cked is less moored to Mansons own experiences than The Subtle Art, but there he cushions his philosophies in yarnsthe book opens with a story of Holocaust heroism. Manson recently read a review of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0062888439/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i1" id="9c3c230e-2f0e-38de-a6ca-39d7191b16e9"> Everything Is F*cked </a> that described him along the lines of the local drunk who spent too much time in the philosophy section at the bookstore. He was unruffled by the review. I read that and Im like, thats pretty accurate.

Strikingly, Mansons books appeal to both men and women, who have historically been shuttled into separate lanes by the self-help industry: Men self-improved by getting swole or getting rich, and women self-improved by finding husbands and laying out all our work outfits for the week on Sunday night. Manson estimates that his events audiences are two-thirds female and one-third male, but he says that men are way more likely to come up to him afterwards, to tell him how hes changed their lives.

My most fervent fans are always guys. Im probably one of four authors that they really like, he says. He explains that besides books about making money, and besides a wave of creepy pickup books in the aughts, the self-help industry hadnt really found a way to address men. Its not that men arent interested in achieving emotional maturity or distilling their values, Manson adds. Its just that when most writers hold forth on those subjects, they kick a masculinity trip wire: Theres still a stigma towards men discussing their mental health and, more nebulously, their feelings.

Manson is unnervingly well-read in the industrys old vanguard. Hes able to summarize and belittle entire bodies of work in a single sentence. (Hes good. Hes really, really good, Manson says of life coach and fellow mega-author Tony Robbins, but with that many peoplewith that far-ranging an audienceI canyoure going to fuck some up.) Manson studied how Robbins buried advice about needs and values in business advice, and he saw how the creepy pickup books did the same thing with romantic advice.

I think if there's been a breakthrough in my work, Manson says, it's that I have found a way to appeal to a lot of mento make it okay for them to read a book that talks about feelings, and values, and relationshipswithout also alienating women.

There are a lot of self-help writers with accessible voices and good stories who dont alienate women, but none of them have Mansons audience. What sets Manson apart is his ability to cast himself as the clear-eyed voice of reason in an industry of nuts. He did it recently, with the self-help industry, and he did it years ago, with the pickup artist community. And that is perhaps the most compelling reason to listen to Mark Manson: At a time when male comebacks seem unlikely, even impossible, Manson has managed to successfully rebrand from professional bad dude to professional good dude.

As of 2005 Manson was, in his words, a poor sexless neophyte. That was the year he discovered The Game. The Game was a pickup artist manifesto from writer Neil Strauss, the personification of a left-swipe on Tinder. Manson became a disciple of the pickup artist community, then quickly rose to a sort of nerd regency. Throughout his childhood in Austin and college in Boston, Manson had played a lot of video games. When he had to choose a pseudonym for online pickup artist forumshis nom de douchehe resurrected his gamer name, Entropy. Manson spent the next seven years traveling, delivering dating advice on his now-defunct blog, and working as a wingman-for-hire for the kind of guys who would seek out a wingman-for-hire. He charged clients about $800 a day.

Manson isnt particularly apologetic about his time as a pickup artist. He volunteers that he began his career in dating and relationship advice, but not that he was a pickup artist. When I ask direct questions about that period, though, he answers them candidly and casually.

Still, when I search for cached web pages from Mansons old website, PostMasculine.com, Im surprised at the Neil Strauss-ness of some of his early posts. On his blog he held forth on subjects such as Ethics: Bride at Her Bachelorette Party (in hindsight, pursuing her was wrong) and How to Pick Up Girls in College, a post Manson published on his blog in 2008. As soon as you can tell a girl is attracted to you, make a move on her. Girls at college parties are drunk, inexperienced, stressed out, and many of them are looking to hook up. Theres no place for subtlety here, Manson wrote. You can kiss them within minutes of meeting them. If you move things fast physically, and get them horny, you can get them in the bedroom within 30 minutes.

When I mention this post to Manson over the phone, he sounds so uncomfortable that I apologize. I definitely wrote something like that, and its definitely making me cringe a little bit right now, he says. I have a number of guy friends that I met in that community. And they've moved onnobody thinks about it anymore. But every once in a while, I'll have a conversation with one of those friends and be like, I can't believe we did that. You know? And they're like, Yeah, but, we grew a lot, and we matured a lot. And it's like, Yeah, but we did a lot of kind of shady shit, too. He's like, Yeah, kind of. There's definitely conflicted feelings about it. I think, overall, for most of the men, it was probably a net positive.

Another deleted post, from 2010, heralds the end of the pickup artist community. After spending five years in the Pick Up Artist community, Ive taken my leave, Manson wrote on his blog on September 21, 2010.

After that, Manson began repudiating pickup artistry more frequently and more decisively. On PracticalPickup.com, formerly the hub for his coaching, Manson offered advice for transitioning from pickup artistry to civilian life. He appeared on various blogs, he did AMAs on Reddit, and he devoted a blog post to dismantling The Game.

Now, Im not here to start a smear campaign, Manson wrote of Strauss, after an introduction in which he expressed his gratitude to Strauss for exposing him to the idea that its possible for any man to improve in matters of seduction. But everyone Ive met who lived in that house [Project Hollywood, Strausss pickup artist mothership] has come away with a bad taste in their mouth, and many of them openly dont like the guy. You be the judge. He went on: Pick Up Artist advice up until about 2007 or so, wasand Im being brutally honest herehorrible. Completely ineffective at best and outright manipulative and misleading at worst, Manson wrote.

He decried The Game as a marvel of marketing, a dating get rich quick scam. He launched THE single biggest product launch in internet marketing history at the time, bringing in over $11 million, Manson wrote, He then launched his business Stylelife which has over 40,000 members each paying $40 per month. You sure it wasnt a sales job?

(On his website Manson touts his $48 annual subscription in a Wikipedia-like appeal: Im an independent writer. What that means is that Im not under contract at a magazine or newspaper, Im not beholden to some overbearing editor/publisher, and Im certainly not whoring myself out to some big media conglomerate I have you. My readers. People who love what I do enough that theyre willing to help me keep being able to do it.)

In July 2011, Manson self-published a book, Models: A Comprehensive Guide to Attracting Women, on Amazon and on his website. In 2012 he released a revised edition, calling it <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1463750358/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i2" id="f436105c-d0f6-395c-a7fb-27ca9379409b"> Models: Attract Women Through Honesty </a> . In a foreword to the revision, he explained that hed wanted to address consent more directly. This was always implied in earlier versions of the book, Manson wrote, but after being horrified at some of the emails I get from men and how they interpret the book, Ive decided to be more explicit about this.

Manson has left Entropy behind (insofar as one can leave anything behind on the internet). His old blog posts were accompanied by a photo of a slimmer, younger Mark Mansoneyes very green but a little dead, a smug half-smile on his lips. Now the About Me page on MarkManson.net features a photo of him in a light-blue button-up shirt, arms crossed in front of him. He looks healthy and corporate and not at all entropic. He lives in New York with his wife, Fernanda. He did meet her in a nightclub, he says, but he approached her as a civilian. I had no line, he recalls, It was, Hi, I'm Mark. In addition to The Subtle Art and Everything Is F*cked, he has a robust motivational speaking career, and he blogs often.

Besides being important from a personal development standpoint, Mansons well-engineered departure from the pickup artist community was a prototype for the rest of his career. Manson is a serial disruptor, and if theres one thing he can teach us, its how to make yourself the face of an industrys a-ha moment.

Manson was a welcome upstart among the old woo-woo institutions. Dale Carnegie, of the veryold vanguard, gave us tips for how to win friends and influence people in 1936 that are still in circulation now. Gentle earth uncle Eckhart Tolle encouraged us to quell the destructive ego-driven thought patterns keeping us from finding our true purpose. The Secrets Rhonda Byrne suggested that single people sleep on one side of the bed, and only use half the space in our closetsit will be as though we have already found the perfect partner, she reasoned, and then the Universe will send the perfect partner our way.

I know Im a self-development blogger and Im supposed to keep everything light and airy and full of poop jokes, but fuck itI hate it. Its an awful book, Manson wrote of The Secret in 2015, on MarkManson.net, in a post very similar in tone to the one in which he tore into Neil Strauss and The Game in 2010. His campaign was one of radical change, and Byrne was his counterpoint. He argued that Byrnes philosophy of all-the-time positive thinking is in fact very destructive. Call me crazy, he wrote in 2015, but I believe that changing and improving your life requires destroying a part of yourself and replacing it with a newer, better part of yourself. It is therefore, by definition, a painful process full of resistance and anxiety. Nobody called him crazy.

He rejected the industrys emphasis on promising readers concrete steps towards self-improvement. These action items are often arbitrary and unscientific, but theyre very seductive. The publisher really wanted me to put those things in there, and I told him, Absolutely not. They dont work. I dont want to write them, Manson says. Some conventional self-help people read the book and were like, Theres nothing actionable in here, so this is a waste of time. If thats their reaction, then its definitely not the right book for them. Which is fine.

Instead of giving readers a step-by-step roadmap to a perfect life, Manson suggested that we learn how to accept lifes imperfections. If other self-help books are crash diets, then Manson is the tough love nutritionist, sitting us down and telling us to stop eating Pop-Tarts. I say, 30 days is not enough. You have to manage your relationship with the Pop-Tart for the rest of your life.

It was an unsexy philosophy, delivered by a man whose professional qualifications amounted to Ive had a blog for a while. People are like, Why should I listen to you? he says. I'm like, I don't know. Don't. I'm not going to stand up here and say that Ive got it all figured outhere are my 18 degrees. I just started writing about my problems and my issues and how I dealt with them. And people liked it and kept asking me to write more. You play that out for about eight years and you end up with a book.

But Manson feels no less qualified to proselytize than any other industry kingpins. Rather, he views his ability to recognize when hes out of his depth as a strength. Hes the fun aunt of life advice. Hes a great peacetime babysitter, up for changing the occasional diaper, but when things get really shitty he hands us off to the people who know best.

He tells me that a self-help writer can either choose to be honest about what he doesnt know, or he can delude himself into thinking that he can solve everyones problems. I stay in the shallow end of the pain pool, he says. Ive written on the site that I specialize in mild life problems. Like if you've had a breakup, a major career decision, or midlife crisis, I'm your guy. I get questions from people who are schizophrenic or bipolar, or are having suicidal thoughts. And I'm like, Hey man, I'm not qualified for this. And I give them resources, links, and phone numbers for people who are.

I ask Manson why his strategy of setting himself up as the counterpoint to bullshit might make his work particularly appealing to men. He speculates that the internet has made people more skepticaleven a little bit paranoid. Because we are exposed to so much information, and we are aware of the ugly underside of a lot of things. When youre able to stand up and be like, This group is bullshit, and heres why, that generates a lot of attention, he says. Men, he suggests, have always had the desire to improve themselves and their relationships, but they sensed the self-help industrys phoniness. It just felt bullshitty to them. My criticisms, I think, just put words to what a lot of them felt. I hear that all the time, too, actually: I never liked self-help stuff, and I didn't know why until I read your book.

Manson is kind of like the car salesman who gets your business by telling you that all those other guysthe guys who promise you that their cars will help you get laidare lying to you. No mere vehicle can do that, hed say, shutting the car door as you prepare to drive away in your new convertible, but this one has excellent airbags.

After The Subtle Art took off, Manson had a brief existential crisis. He wanted to keep writing books, but he knew he was unlikely to out-sell The Subtle Art. He was grappling with a quandary that faces a disruptor of any major industry, from mattresses to happiness: Once youve popped the bubble, how do you keep growing.

I think my whole career has been me kind of ascending within a genre or a community and then stepping out of it, kind of like moving on to something broader, he says. I feel like I want to do that with self-help at some point. The same way, when I was 27 or 28, that I said, I dont want to be writing about dating stuff the rest of my life, I dont want to be writing about self-help stuff the rest of my life. I feel like theres a finite amount of things to say, and then once I say them, I just want to move on.

There are writers in every genre, but particularly in self-help, who spend their entire careers writing the same book over and over again. (Im not going to name any names, but they basically write the same book over and over and over again, and they make good money doing it.) Indeed, an occasional criticism of The Subtle Art, which seems to rankle Manson, is that when you peel away his no-nonsense tone and his analysis of the industry, he isnt really saying anything new.

I ask him whether he felt that he was repeating the same ideas when he was writing Everything Is F*cked. He concedes that some of the topics in the books are parallel, but says that Everything Is F*cked is the calculus to The Subtle Arts algebra: a more complex, nuanced version of the first books simpler principles. Still, hes aware that theres only so much you can say about self-improvement, and only so many different ways to say it, before you start repeating yourself.

Not that writing the same book over and over again is always bad, Manson adds, ever hedging a criticism. Some people enjoy knowing that theyre going to feel centered and motivated for the five hours it takes to read a book.

I don't think it would've lasted this long or been this big if there wasn't some good that came from it, he says of the industry. I think the question is just: What is it? And my argument is that self-help material is really just designed to make you feel good.

Still, while Mansons books may not fluff readers up with promises of the bounty of the Universe, like The Secret, or arm us with easy tricks for getting what we want, like The Game, they are designed to make us feel good: Nothing makes us feel better than being wise to a scam.

There are a lot of reasons to listen to Mark Manson.

The Shady Past (and Bright Future) of Mark Manson, Self-Help's New Superstar

Well, no. For most of my dating career, Id feint for my wallet when the check arrived, and if my date didnt immediately say, Ive got this, Id exaggeratedly grope around the depths of my purse to give him more time to do the right thing. Sometimes I even halfheartedly offered to split the bill, but I never insisted, and men rarely accepted. If they did let me split the bill, it wasnt a deal breaker, but it was a ding: It was a great date, Id tell my friends. But he didnt pay.

A month later, I was at a fancy restaurant with a date, and I was spiraling. Id never really questioned whether men should pay on first dates. We had been nursing Negronis at the bar for hours. On either side of us, two rounds of first dates had arrived, run out of things to talk about, and left, but we were still going strong. He asked the bartender for the bill, put his credit card on the bar, and scampered off to the mens room. While I was alone, the bill came, and I stared at it like it was the Black Spot. I was paralyzed by etiquette: It seemed presumptuous to hand my dates card to the bartender, but it seemed even more presumptuous to wait for my date to return so that I could make a show of reaching for my wallet.

I realize that by offering to split the bill when I in fact have no intention of doing so, Im putting my dates in a difficult position. Chivalry tells us that men must pay on dates, but here I am, pressing to pay my part. Its like that movie trope

in which one character tells another: Whatever happensno matter how much I plead, no matter how much I screamdo not untie me. Invariably the other character caves to his buddys pleas, unties him, and everyone dies. When youve been told never to let a woman pay for dinner, how do you know when to take her up on her offer?

As I stared at the bill, my therapists hmm echoed in my head. So did the phrase benevolent sexism, which Id learned recently and had been overusing ever since. Benevolent sexism was coined by professors Susan T. Fiske and Peter Glick in a 1996 study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. Its counterpart, hostile sexism, is rooted in a belief that women are intent on seizing male power, possibly through blowjobs and feminist guilt trips. Though the same man can demonstrate both hostile sexism and benevolent sexism, depending on the situation, research has shown that generally men have a favorable opinion of women. So, Fiske and Glick write, how can a group be almost universally disadvantaged, and yet loved? The answer lies in the phenomenon of benevolent sexism, or a mans belief that women require mens protection and support.

More free dinners for me! But, Fiske and Glick write, benevolent sexism has a downside: If mens power is popularly viewed as a burden gallantly assumed, as legitimated by their greater responsibility and self-sacrifice, then their privileged role seems justified. In other words, when we all accept that its a mans job to shepherd a woman through life, then why not make him her boss, too? Why not pay him more? Fiske and Glick go on. Women who seek power may consequently be perceived as ungrateful shrews or harpies, deserving of harsh treatment. Women can be complicit in benevolent sexism: When I let a man pay for my dinner, Fiske and Glick suggest, Im bolstering the image of myself as a dependent.

So yes, in theory, a man paying for my dinner is sexist, and Im reinforcing the patriarchy a teensy bit by accepting that free dinner. But in practice, I dont think anyone is considering the gesture in those terms. I think were all too stressed about not doing weird nasal laughs or gleeking gin and tonic on our dates.

When I asked a few women whether they allow men to pay on dates, they all said yesand then they all qualified that yes. One said she thinks of a mans paying for dinner as a sort of man tax: If men are going to get paid more than we are, and have privileges that we dont have, and not have to give birth and stuff, then they should pay for dinner. Another woman said that shell let a man pay for a few dates, but then shell cook him a really nice dinnerbalancing out one old-timey, gendered gesture with another. Another said shell let a man pay for dinner on a date only if she really likes him. If shes not planning to see a guy again, she throws her card down.

A mans paying for dinner is a gesture thats withstood the test of time simply because it helps us breeze through an awkward moment after dinner. The reason scripts like he pays have persisted is that they make things so easy, and thats what makes them so insidious. Sticking with them is easier than negotiating a new social contract.

Before that can happen, we need to lay the groundwork. First, we find that we have to work a little harder to justify upholding the old rule (my friends man tax). Then we begin to outline situations in which it doesnt apply, like the woman who insists on splitting the bill when she doesnt want to see a man again. Then we start calling each other out for following the rule, like my therapist called me out. Finally, we all break the rule.

Were not quite there yet. At that fancy restaurant, while my date was in the bathroom, I snuck a peek at the total on the bill and Venmod him for half before he returned to our table. He never mentioned it, and I still feel like I committed a faux pas. Maybe hes a benevolent sexist. Maybe Im a benevolent sexist. Maybe we were both just terrified of sending the wrong signal.

My therapist approaches my tales of dating apps and booty calls and ghostings with an adorable anthropological fascination. Recently he asked me whether a man I was dating paid for my meals and drinks. Of course, I replied. Hmm, my therapist said. His hmm is the verbal equivalent of looking skeptically at someone over your spectacles, and I knew where he was going: Doesnt a man paying for a date add a transactional tension to what follows the date? And if gender equality is the goalisnt that ...

Just Pick Up the Tab, My Dude

Ive always liked hooking up while the TV is on-I dont pause to turn it on every time Im about to get naked with someone, but I definitely leave it on if its already on. I like how TV dissolves the pressure of the situation: Were not Making Love, were getting it on during Riverdale. Netflix and chill was a strategy to break the ice before a first-time sexual encounter, but Id argue that the ambient noise and flicker of a TV makes sex really low-stress and fun no matter what stage of a relationship youre in.

Theres also a practical reason to leave the TV on: I think it creates better sound privacy. To have sound privacy, according to <a href="https://hbr.org/2013/11/research-cubicles-are-the-absolute-worst" id="a0ea3e59-4608-3add-affe-6672bfbf94a4"> a 2013 study </a> of people who work in cubicles, is to be able to control what you hear and, crucially, who can hear you. The study found that a lack of sound privacy was the top complaint of cubicle workers: People were very stressed by the thought that others could hear their every move. The same, Id argue, is true of sex.

I think that in a sexy setting, the TV provides better sound privacy than, say, a hookup playlist. For one thing, Im always super embarrassed the first time I play my boink playlist for a man. (Its, like, earnest.) Furthermore, where my neighbors wont blink an eye if Im watching Riverdale at top volume-theyre used to it-if I start blasting Pony by Ginuwine, theyll know Im having sex, Ill know they know Im having sex, and then Ill be too self-conscious to focus on the sex. From a sound privacy perspective, TV is much better white noise.

But when youre seeking an ambient hookup show, not all shows are equal. The best sex shows are just mindless enough that you dont feel any pressure to pay attention to them while youre boning. Neither of you should be stressed about missing something while youre hooking up. You should only be enjoying the task at hand.

When youre seeking an ambient hookup show, not all shows are equal.

A good ambient hookup show isnt distracting, either. Horror movies are an obvious no-nothing like a blood-curdling scream to ruin an orgasm-and so are comedies. We'd be banging and I'd start laughing at 30 Rockand she'd think I was laughing at her, <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/AskMen/comments/4wpbla/how_do_you_feel_about_leaving_the_tv_on_during_sex/" id="47a20d9f-4555-3e5d-a575-a6ea68a28bf7"> one Redditor wrote </a> on the subject, or that I didn't think she was worth paying attention to. And I'm just like, ... No... It's 30 Rock... You couldn't have put anything else on?

Stick to these five mindless, sexy options.

You and me baby aint nothin but mammals. If youve never had sex with someone while David Attenborough narrates, youre in for a treat. His gentle voice soothes the senses. Hes there to cheer you on in the good times and to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7QZnwKqopo" id="6687b7dd-8cf6-36ab-ab10-d9f9e7b1a75a"> commiserate </a> , should things go awry. (Its hard not to feel deflated when even your best isnt good enough.) For the eco-aroused, the beautiful vistas remind us that we are all just horny organisms on a desperate quest to procreate.

Twin Peaks is engrossing if you let yourself get into it, but its also easy to check out from: The action is slow and sultry. Plus, theres a good chance youll make mid-coital eye contact with Kyle MacLachlan. Wink at him.

I contend that nobody has ever watched a whole episode of Riverdale. This show is loosely based on the Archie comics, but the plot is too bonkers to follow seriously (cults! gangs! drugs! corruption!) Everyone on the show is attractive, and sometimes the showrunners just grease up Archie (KJ Apa) and throw in a shirtless boxing match for the hell of it. Riverdale was meant to be sexy background viewing.

For the uninitiated, Rome was HBOs Game of Thrones before Game of Thrones. Game of Thrones would be a good hookup show except that its plot is too dynamic (exception: the very boring hours-long rom-com sequence between Jon Snow and Daenerys) and its too jumpy-outy. Rome has all the nudity and high production value of Game of Thrones, but without [spoiler from last weeks episode!] a zombie child, impaled on a wall, screaming and burning. Again, a blood-curdling scream does not a mood set.

Ken Jennings Crush Jeopardy's Winnings Record

When I say Ive watched Twin Peaks, what I mean is that Ive watched about 15 minutes of every episode of Twin Peaks. A former boyfriend had the DVD box set, and for about six months, every time we boned down at his house, we boned down to Twin Peaks. I still have a Pavlovian response every time I hear the retro tunnnnng-tung-tung of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXrjMaVoTy0" id="d38706dd-b3c0-3385-a273-d8b9f9876f4a"> theme song </a> .

5 TV Shows to Have on During Sex

Oh my God. Its like heaven, he says.

Tonight, Crews will make do with just a burger burger. Were sitting in the garden of West Hollywoods Soho House, a members-only club. A woman in a black dress with a deep slit up the leg walks by, trailing a waddling pit-bull terrier. If the building were zoned for fowl, there would be peacocks strutting around, feeling right at home. Crews is not one of those guys who look really strong on TV but shrink in person. He seems even bigger: People spend long hours Photoshopping themselves to look this muscular. Even in a sweater and white button-down, he looks perma-flexed throughout our four-hour conversation. He orders the burger and some fries, lays out plans for dessert, and then returns to discussing his soul sandwich with the barely contained desire of a man on an Everest climb reminiscing about home.

Charismatic isnt the right word. When he talks, his face resembles a series of stock photos of human emotion. Hes angry, then suspicious, and then wide-eyed at the wonders of the world (Fat Sals Deli, for example). Even when hes describing something menial, its like hes telling a ghost story. He speaks either very quietly or very loudly: I know, he says when I comment on it. I have no middle. Crews often touts his intolerance for the middle. That character is me, he says of the guy he played in his Old Spice ad campaign-always shirtless, always shouting. Im all or nothing! I live life!

When Crews is listening, he listens with every feature. He doesnt blink. He leans in, tilts his head, and narrows his eyes at you. He stays perfectly still until youve fumbled through whatever is on your mind. He doesnt start talking after you stop talking, which makes you just...say more stuff. He often doesnt seem extreme at all. He seems secure, inquisitive, restrained, friendly, and understanding. Hes the opposite of self-involved or intense.

Anyone can get Crewss biceps, triceps, and as-yet-unnamed-ceps, but its this ability to stay extremely in the middle that makes him appear so strong in person.

Terry Crews would be a great celebrity interviewer.

He doesnt seem distracted at all, in spite of the days cyclone of activity. Crews, 50, has come directly from his Mens Health video shoot. He spent the 20- minute car ride to Soho House attending to his social media ahead of the finale of the latest season of Americas Got Talent, which he hosted.

On Terry: Nike Basketball Jersey, Jordan Basketball Shorts, Skechers Sneakers, Tissot Watch. On Rebecca: Athleta Tank, Nike Leggings, Nike Sneakers.

Crews loves Twitter. He fires off somewhere between 10 and 900 thoughts a day. Men have got to not only do better, but call out this behavior among ourselves as unacceptable, hell tweet, or hell post a GIF of himself, or hell say, simply, Wow, with a link.

Social-media vigilance aside, Crews barely looks at his phone during our time at Soho House. He sets it on the table-as though to test himself-and even when it lights up he doesnt glance at it. Crews says that growing up in a turbulent household in Flint, Michigan, with a father who beat his mother, taught him to tune out distractions better than most people. Thats certainly one reason hes such an attentive listener.

Another reason: Crews has been unable to hear sounds in certain registers since he was a kid. Really high voices like his granddaughters, for instance, tend to fall out of his range. When he was 44, his doctor told him that hed actually been relying on lip reading, without realizing it, for much of his life. There are times where I dont hear people, Crews explains, and then I just mimic the way theyre acting. They dont know. They start laughing and I go, Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! Im such a big fake. Theres a lot of mimicry, so you kind of learn to build facial expressions.

I suddenly feel insecure, worrying that hes just been expertly interpreting my questions through my face. No, youre good, he says, not particularly convincingly.

Terry Crews, the Strongest Man in Hollywood

Crewss expressions are part of whats made him so recognizable as an actor. So are his pecs. And abs. And lats. (Those lats!) From 1991 to 1997, Crews played football with the Los Angeles Rams, the San Diego Chargers, the Washington Redskins, and the Philadelphia Eagles. He weighs 240 pounds, and he has about 6 percent body fat. To make your strength funny, you have to be really, really strong, and Crews is. For a long time, he was that guy, stealing scenes in scores of films and TV shows. He was that guy from Idiocracy and that really horny guy who sings A Thousand Miles in White Chicks. For some, he will forever be that guy from the Old Spice ads. These days, besides hosting Americas Got Talent, he plays a cop, also named Terry, on Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

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And in 2017, after hed built a career playing all those different guys, Crews became the #MeToo guy. He came forward to describe how hed been groped by talent agent Adam Venit at a party in Hollywood in 2016. He was gratified by the supportive responses and unfazed by those who were convinced that hed been paid to come forward to further the agendas of white women. Ive had people tell me that we had a previous relationship and it went sour, Crews scoffs. People have to fill in the blanks. There was a much larger contingent that couldnt believe Venit could have molested Crews and walked away. They wondered why Crews didnt just hit him.

Crews used to think that being strong meant proving how strong you are all the time. He learned that growing up in Flint. My father made sure, every time he came in the house, that we were uncomfortable. He was not happy until we were uncomfortable. That meant: Now I got respect. Thats so many men. That was me. Then, and certainly when Crews was playing football, strength meant pushing your body to its limits, and pushing everyone around you to their limits. It meant being a great football player but, often, a terrible husband.

In the winter of 2010, right before The Expendables came out, when Crewss career was taking off, his wife, Rebecca King-Crews, left him. Hed admitted to her that a decade earlier, hed gotten a happy ending in a massage parlor, and for King-Crews it was the last straw. To put his family together again, hed have to tell her about everything-even the pornography addiction that until then had been a carefully guarded secret. Hed have to study those things himself. Crews found himself alone, with nobody to impress and nobody to validate his behavior. I didnt have a circle, he says. I was literally all by myself. There was nobody to call. No group of guys I could go to: Tell me Im good. They would have been like, She doesnt understand you, dog. Lets go have a drink.

Ordinarily, Im skeptical of any man who claims to have figured out toxic masculinity and reformed his behavior. But Crews is not just any man. He was raised in a rigidly Christian home, for one thing, and though he now considers himself more spiritual than religious, he has a very Christian belief in ones endless capacity for self-reinvention. He also has a superhuman ability to find motivation within: While most people have only one act, or even half an act, Crews has pulled off careers in two of the most competitive industries in America. He was desperate to change-he felt like hed lost everything-and he had the perseverance to do it.

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Hearing that the man before me is a less intense version of some raging proto- Terry is hard to grasp. Its like learning that a crocodile is descended from some dinosaur supercrocodile. The modern-day crocodile is still pretty intense.

The sun is going down, Crewss burger has yet to arrive, and by my calculations, he hasnt eaten in about 24 hours. Every morning, he wakes up before 5:00. He grabs his workout clothes, which he laid out next to his bed the night before. He takes a boatload of healthy ingestibles: multivitamins, essential fatty acids, a fat burner, enzymes for digestion, garlic, glutamine, horny goat weed.... He mixes amino acids into water and heads to one of several gyms he belongs to. Then he fasts until 2:00 p.m. Wed met earlier in the day at his Mens Health video shoot, which began before 2:00, and I didnt see him snacking at all. But Crews does not appear to suffer from the existential fussiness that most people experience when they havent eaten in many hours. Hes the opposite of hangry. Hes jovial and energetic-a talker incarnate.

Fasting made a lot of sense, because once, I was in rehab for a pornography addiction, and they put me and my wife on a 90-day sex fast, he says nonchalantly. Crews has turned his personal life inside out so much in the past few years that he says he no longer feels any self-consciousness. (As a woman, I find Crewss honest answers to my questions about what its like to be a guy revelatory and unsettling.) Sometimes my gauge is gone, he says. I remember going out with a superstar couple, my wife and I, and I was like, I was addicted to porn. They were like- He widens his eyes and puckers his lips.

The first time Crews and his wife attempted their sex fast, they made it only 75 days, but the next year, they tried it again and made it all 90 days. This is the deal, he says. Everything that is within your grasp doesnt need to be in your hand. You have to tell your body no. Because if you listen to your body, youre gonna be off.

I point out that intermittent fasting seems like exactly the kind of thing the old Terry Crews-the one obsessed with proving his strength all the time-would have done. Crews explains why its not: He now practices intermittent fasting because it feels good, but proto-Terry would have imposed it on other people as a way to demonstrate his control over his world. I would require it for everyone, and thats where the line gets crossed, he says. My whole family eats whatever they want.

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When we start to discuss Crewss assault in earnest, its dark outside. The restaurants woodsy lanterns light up, and L.A.s twinkly sprawl unfolds below. An acquaintance of his who stopped by to say hello when he arrived has dined at another table and gone.

Finding the line between doing something for yourself and doing something to intimidate or impress others has been the greatest test of Crewss life. He didnt vanquish Adam Venit. William Morris Endeavor, Venit, and Crews settled, and Venit retired from the agency.

Did I get everything I was supposed to get? Did I win? Did he go to jail? No. Did he get punished by the court? By society? No.

When he was testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee last June regarding proposed sexual-assault legislation, he described how hed held back, even though his first instinct was to be violent.

Why didnt you? Senator Dianne Feinstein interrupted. Crews looked as exasperated as youre allowed to look when a senator asks you a stupid question. Youre a big, powerful man. Why didnt you- She mimed pushing someone.

Senator, as a black man in America- Crews paused for a few seconds. The idea that Crews might have Hulk-smashed Venit into oblivion without risking his acting career reflects a severe alienation from reality. (Crews is more magnanimous toward Feinstein: Look at her era. Look where she comes from. Youre supposed to knock the guy out.) Crews took a deep breath and looked down at the table. Say it as it is, Feinstein said.

Crews spoke firmly when he addressed Feinstein. Im from Flint, Michigan. I have seen many, many young black men who were provoked into violence-they were imprisoned or they were killed. And theyre not here. My wife, for years, prepared me. She said, If you ever get goaded, if you ever get prodded-if you ever have anyone try to push you into any situation-dont do it. Dont be violent.

If you are what you eat, then Terry Crews is a mega sandwich from Fat Sals Deli in Los Angeles, a giant la carte Frankenstein of everything the place offers, conceived in the most unrestrained corner of his mind. Crews goes to Fat Sals once or twice a week for his cheat meal. In his sandwichs warm hoagie embrace are the following: assorted lunch meats, potato chips, bacon, a hamburger patty, and a hot dog. You can double or triple it up, he adds. The sandwich is fully optimized-other sandwich...

Lauren Larson

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