Men want to be me. Women want to be with me.

I wake up. It's 6:30 AM. This truly rare specimen of manhood's body clock is as precise as his body is well maintained -- muscle mass, density, power, intensity, mental focus. I don't wear clothes to bed so I can admire my ripped definition in the mirrors over my bed if I happen to wake up in the middle of the night. Anyway, here is my morning routine:

Wake up. Practice my pose combos: Front Double Biceps, Back Lat Spread, Front Abdominal-Thigh Isolation. You get the idea. Breakfast wine with a shot of Somatotropin on the side. Baby fur seal bacon and soft boiled condor eggs on toast points. Whole wheat.

Shower. Air dry.

Hydroxy masque to remove impurities and gently exfoliate. Futur E moisturizer. Jan Tana Hair Remover on my washboard abs and cut pecs. Who knows if some lovely on the Orange line will want to do a charcoal rubbing to remember me by? It happens all the time.

Today I'm putting on my medallion of a Buddha Vitarka Mudra flanked by a couple of Bodhisattvas for my AM commute from my Adams Morgan compound to Dunn Loring where I help run a multinational corporation. I slip into my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt.

Sorry for the lame narrative, no adventures and such, but many of you have asked about me. To get inside my head and figure out just what makes me tick. In that spirit, I'm bearing my soul by taking you through my morning routine in this aside. You know, just in case one of you lovelies gets invited up to my compound in Adams Morgan, you know what to expect.

Ripped definition. Perfectly attuned body clocks. An uncharacteristic use of an aside. Skin health. That is what I am about. If you can handle the fact that men want to be me and other women want to be with me, you know where to write.

He gets letters:

"do you jo in the mornings too?"