Attraction

I can't help looking at this guy and thinking, hey, he's nice.   I wouldn't mind if ....

And yet, how many apparently handsome blokes do you find who are arrogant and selfish and narcissistic?  And whose looks are spoilt because of it?  In the end, looks go away; you get old and your flesh sags and you lose your hair and your face gets lined with the travails of life.   But your character remains: whether you are kind and generous; whether you have a sense of humour; whether you are a pleasure to be with, even when, especially when, you aren't in bed.  Those things last, and as I get older I find that they have become more important to me in the ppl I connect with.

Contrasts

I receive a kind message from one friend, which brings tears to my eyes.  And nothing from another.  He has a very full life, d'you see?  He has important things to do and important people to connect with.  Get it?

The one friend is old and worn.  The other "friend" is young and handsome.  But in the end, who is worth more?  Who is the better person?  It's completely clear in my own mind.

So tempting--and stupid--to judge people by their faces, not their hearts.

What I look like

Ppl often ask what I look like, so I decided to show you.

Inner beauty

Yeah, I know.  I do rabbit on a lot about this.  But I found Carol Zampa's blog post especially relevant and moving today.

A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely. ~Roald Dahl

She talks about how inner beauty can make you shine, no matter how old and crinkly and plain you appear to be.

This morning, I accidentally stumbled on a picture of someone who I found, much to my surprise, to be incredibly sexy. So sexy I couldn’t take my eyes from him. And, in truth, he’s sort of lingered in my mind all day.


He was a very young man—what?—no older than his twenties, probably. Skinny as a beanpole, he wore glasses and had bleached blond hair, wild and curly. Not ripped with six pack abs—actually, he didn’t even have a three-pack set of abs. At first glance, very ordinary.


In fact, he would fit perfectly in one of those vintage ads for body building. You know the ones. The buff guy mocking the 98-pound weakling, taunting, Hey, Skinny! Kicking sand in his face. He could be the poster boy for the old Charles Atlas ads…Do you want to look like THIS? He’d BE the 98-pound weakling.


Then his most outstanding feature—his smile—caught my attention. A huge, brilliant, need-sunglasses-to-look-at-it blinding smile. Very toothy. A skinny little scarecrow with huge teeth and glasses.


Somehow, inexplicably, I found myself so attracted to this young man, actually finding him incredibly sexy. No, not lothario sexy—let me bed you, my darling, and wrap you in roses and kisses sexy—just…sexy.


The beauty, the intense beauty, that radiated from this man drew me to him, then caused me to stop, to tarry. From the brilliant, effervescent smile, my gaze moved to see that he had very nice hands…expressive hands. Nice, strong, handsome feet. Light, smooth skin. Details which, when observed as a whole picture, blended to make a very handsome person

Have a read of her piece.  I think you'll like it as much as I did. 

BTW, Carol's new romantic  m2m novel  Candy G is now available from Dreamspinner Press

Reciprocal Links

When I link to another website, it's because I like it, or because it's a friend's, or because I think maybe you might find it useful.

I don't expect to be linked back.  If I am, great!  If not, well, that's your indaba -- I promise not to cry myself asleep.

So far only Anel Viz's site has linked back to mine.  Until recently.

Now GayTwoGether has linked to me.  I'm honoured (or perhaps honored, since they're American).  Thank you.

This amazing photo comes from them.  Isn't he just the cat's pyjamas? (I'm assuming he's nice inside too, natch I am -- would I be attracted to a bloke just because he's beaut?  Nah -- I'm too old and wise for that lark.)

Inner vs outward beauty

So let's talk about this  -- a vexed question among gay and bi men, in fact among humans.

You meet this guy.  He's stunning.  From the outside.  His face is extraordinarily beaut, perfectly proportioned, symmetrical, something you're glad to gaze on all day.  His body muscular but not too muscular (like my thong wearer), his cock fat and long, just the sort of proportions to make you turn bottom.

You see him across the room, you are magnetically drawn into his orbit, you talk to him, everything in you responds and wham!  You're in love.

But then you get to know him.  You discover that he has yet to get over a deep and long-lasting love affair  --- with himself.  That later on in the evening at parties, he always takes his shirt off, even if everyone else is wearing a jersey because it's so chilly, because he just loves showing off his perfect torso and his six-pack and his shoulders like cannon balls.  When you talk to him, the conversation always veers back to the most important topic ever:  him.  If you are lonely or unhappy or sick, he shrugs it off:  no one can ever be as lonely or unhappy or sick as he is or was.  Diddums.  The trials of his job are are always greater than yours.  When you make love, he falls asleep as soon as he's come.  You have to take care of yourself.

And so on.

It fact, it turns out that he is an arrogant, solipsistic, self-obsessed, selfish, boring, tedious, up-himself prick.  And when you've fallen out of love with him, you can watch unmoved as his new conquests make the same mistake you did.  Stars in their eyes, they wander around already half in love -- with a revolting, odious arsehole.

And one day Mr Beautiful gets old and flabby, his tan turns to skin tags and moles and icky crusty bits, his six-pack gets covered with a layer of fat, his hair thins until his head shines like a supernumerary moon in the moonlight, and his soccer-ball shoulders deflate tragically.  So very sad.  And now, bereft of physical beauty, his inner charms make him the dreary loser at parties, pathetically going from one group of younger, prettier people to the next, unable to believe that no one is interested -- in him.

Yep.  We are all in thrall to beauty.  I was, too.  Yet -- and it's a hard lesson -- in the end what lasts is inner beauty.  And when you find someone who has a sense of humour, is kind and thoughtful, who cares about you, who loves you and finds you hot and sexy, you have found the perfect man.  Even if he doesn't have a six-pack or cricket-ball shoulders.

[This post was inspired by comments and discussion on an earlier post which you can read here]