Your Curated Musical Exercise Fantasies Have Arrived!

Hello < CHAZ > !

FantaCize™ has taken the results of your most recent questionnaire and curated a new batch of Musical Exercise Fantasies™ to help push your runner’s high to a new level of health-inducing ecstasy!

Based on the information you provided, your music profile this month is

< CLOSET POPAHOLIC >

and your demographic profile is

< HETEROSEXUAL URBAN PROFESSIONAL > !

Here is your curated playlist with associated fantasies!

“Want to Want Me” by Jason Derulo

You exit the venue riding high after delivering a beautifully polished TEDx talk on the future of disrupting the drone delivery system when you recognize a woman waiting on the sidewalk. She just did her own TEDx talk on the unspoken truth that fashion blogs are wagging the dog. As you muster the courage to ask her out for a pour-over coffee, her Uber pulls up to take her to a charity board meeting. Time slows as you break into a brisk jog while fumbling with your business card holder. All of those years playing Ultimate Frisbee pay off as you spin your details into the open backseat window of the moving Lincoln MKX. You make brief but meaningful eye contact as she looks back to see if you are a true romantic or an ambitious leafleter. Two weeks later you get a flirty direct message after your Twitter rant about Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos. It’s her.

“Love Me Like You Do” by Ellie Goulding

Lightning strikes as Ellie Goulding spots you grooving out in the tenth row. She takes an impromptu intermission and announces to the audience that you, and only you, should come backstage. After clearing out her dressing room she asks if you feel it, too. You nod silently. She tells you to meet her in Big Sur in three days. She’ll need the time to do PR damage control after canceling the rest of her world tour. When she finally arrives you are thrilled to find out she doesn’t care that you are a simple pre-billionaire who is just launching your buy-one-give-one ironic t-shirt startup. She believes in you, you handsome bastard.

You spend the next 48 hours in bed, only popping your heads up for an occasional post-coital snack of champagne and French fries on your sun-drenched balcony overlooking the majestic Pacific.

“Story of My Life” by One Direction à “Take Me to Church” by Hozier

After toiling away for years as the most innovative music video director on the planet you finally save enough money to finance a personal film script. Several years ago, you were a European Literature major studying in London when you met a beautiful Israeli woman doing the same. You fell in love over Chaucer and room temperature beer and asked her to come back with you to the States. But she still needed to serve her mandatory two-year military term. One day she was gone. You end the film by begging her to call you.

The film lights art house theaters on fire and you shoot to the top of the 30-under-30 list in the Hollywood Reporter. But instead of allowing the hype to blur your creative vision, your next film is a brilliant satire about the masochistic nature of the backward Hollywood system. It reveals so many ultimate truths that it actually changes the business to a meritocracy of artistic value. You win a lifetime achievement Oscar at the age of 29 and then retire from making films to mentor subsequent generations.

“See You Again (feat. Charlie Puth)” by Wiz Khalifa

You are the hottest underground hip-hop artist in Los Angeles. Three months ago your girlfriend died from a MRSA infection she contracted while working as the official rolfer of the San Diego Chargers. The romance was still new, but in that brief time she helped you work through a dark sequence involving bad sashimi and a Wi-Fi outage. She had earned your trust.

You know from reading Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth that the only way to dissolve this pain body is to observe it in action. Thus you spend day and night in the studio documenting your feelings to ultraphat beats. Deep loss and medicinal marijuana edibles combine to be your most potent muse.

You emerge from your cocoon of grief and book a show sponsored by Land Rover at the hip-hop club with the highest Yelp rating. Word on the street is that Jay-Z is crazy about your new jam and Emma Stone is attached to play your MRSA-ridden love interest in the video.

As the piano tinkles the intro you start singing in a perfect falsetto that nobody has ever heard before. They all knew you could rap, but this is insane. Is there anything you can’t do? As you belt out this emotional love letter to the memory of your lost soulmate everyone in the building starts to connect the dots: this genius turned his personal hell into solid platinum.

The comments on your Facebook page make it clear that an appropriate mourning period has been observed. You have a series of physically intense and emotionally honest one-night stands in which you and your partners freely engage with the implicit understanding that you’ll remain friends if the long-term chemistry isn’t there.

You release your hit single on your own. Your shit is so virally hot that you don’t need any major-label marketing dollars. You immediately launch into the stratosphere of music luminaries alongside Michael Jackson, Bob Dylan and Taylor Swift and start belting out smash hits like you’re Babe Ruth in a batting cage.