Sex Education and Exercise, a Love Story

In which I talk parasocial relationships, good television, and exercise.

Hello, friends. 

Publishing a book is hilarious because every time you think you are absolutely done, another file shows up for you to read and correct. You would think that after six books I would fully know the drill, but you would be wrong. How many more times will I go through the book and move commas back and forth? Only time will tell!

Speaking of time, have you watched the trailer for this? Please avoid the name of the film until it appears at the end of the preview, and then join me in a bowl of laughter. (This is not the fault of the very, very talented movie stars who appear, and whose combined beauty I have no doubt would make the entire movie worth watching. But. That. Title.)

While I wait to have concrete news to share about my book, I am spending my time doing the great modern pastime⁠—creating vibrant parasocial relationships with people I don’t actually know. Most of the time, I think parasocial relationships are weird and creepy and exist to make you feel bad about yourself (hello, mothers I follow on Instagram whose children eat things other than plain pasta and hot dogs!), but there are good ones, too. Early in the pandemic, many people I know fell deeply in love with Adriene and her dog, but I was not in a place where exercising was possible. More recently, though, with the advent of school and childcare and a full, robust staff at the bookstore, I have begun to move my body.

I come from an exercise-averse family. My mother has always loved to play tennis, and she occasionally has been able to coerce my older brother into a game or two, but the rest of us are a lost cause. There were a few years in my twenties when I did a lot of yoga (I love you, Mala, and if anyone needs a running coach, please call Steph, who is the greatest), but otherwise I have always seen exercise as an embarrassment. Those people who run? On the sidewalk? In public? Show-offs! Adults who join softball teams? Stunted! I came from smokers. From gossipers! Those were sports I could get behind. (Sidenote: if you’re looking for a taxonomy of cigarettes in private school in the 1990s, you’ll find that in my new book.) I know some of you go on skiing vacations and do Tough Mudders, or whatever it is they’re called, but to quote the great poet Lili Taylor, “That’ll never be me.”

And yet, and yet. Age comes for us all. It gives me absolutely no pleasure to tell you that I have started exercising on a daily basis, and that it makes my body feel less like something that is crumbling into dust. Cringe! I am hiding under my laptop. But it’s true.

Mostly, I dance, which is also something that makes me cringe, and that I absolutely do not do in public. Ben is my favorite⁠—this is where we get into the parasocial relationships. I first clicked on one of his classes because of his round face. Yes, I thought, this is a person I can trust not to kill me. The rest of him was round-ish, too. Soft, and kind. He looked like my friend Sam, like anyone’s friend Sam. He was patient and funny and sang along to all the same songs I did. Some of the other instructors will try to tell you that songs from the year 2005 are throwback hits, but Ben would never. Ben knows that only En Vogue and Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch are throwback hits. Ben will take care of you. 

Once, by mistake, I clicked on a HIIT class. Do you know what that is? I certainly did not. HIIT stands for something like Hiiiii There, Are You Really Sure You Should Be Doing This? It’s a lot of jumping up and down, with squats in between. Now I sometimes click on them on purpose, and I finally figured out why. The instructor was a British man with very large thigh muscles, and one day, he told a story (in the midst of all the jumping and the squatting) about how he hadn’t hugged his family in a very long time, and all of a sudden I was forced to imagine this hulking creature as a sad, lonely little boy. And then I realized that he reminded me of Adam Groff, a character on Sex Education, one of the very best television shows ever made.

Maybe you think you’ve already watched all the shows you need to watch about teenagers⁠—I understand. I’ve watched them all, too! But Sex Education is different. It makes me want to move to Wales and live with Gillian Anderson. It is funny and smart and, yes, sexy. Adam Groff starts out as a bit of a bully and a villain but by the end of the third season, he is wholly sympathetic and sweet and, very slight spoiler, there is a scene with him and his small dog that made me burst into tears. 

Book news soon. All of this is pertinent, I swear. 

Yours,

Emma

Photo of the author at 17, participating in her favorite sport.

What I’m Reading:

• Tamara Shopsin’s Laserwriter II, an absolute must for anyone who loves computers, New York City, or perfection. Tamara Shopsin is one of my very favorite writers and my actual favorite pancake chef.

What I’m Watching, Reality Edition:

• The 41st season of Survivor

• Great British Bake-Off

• Motel Makeover