No Sex

Let’s face it, group rides are just Tinder for people with vascular legs and zero social subtlety. You get in a tight paceline, stare at each other’s butts for 40 miles, grunt once at a rest stop, and then never speak again. Romantic, in a medieval peasant kind of way. Plus, the post-ride serotonin dump is almost as good as intimacy, if intimacy involved a banana, a lukewarm protein shake, and someone yelling "ON YOUR LEFT!" during the emotional climax. So yes, congratulations. You may be celibate, but at least you’re aero.