Call me crazy.
Not me.
Boy crazy,
that is. I saw one of the most beautiful men I've ever laid eyes on
today. Perfect muscular body, not too big, not too skinny, just the
right amount of body hair in all the best places. He was riding by on
his bike, shirtless, of course, and stopped about twenty feet away
ostensibly to make a phone call, but I know he was just teasing me. I tried my best to stare as much as possible. I was very close to asking him for a picture, he was just that gorgeous. The bitch.
I'm getting back to that point in my own fitness where I'm close to maxing out half the machines at the gym again. And it pisses me off when the 6-foot-2 Adonis next to me is struggling with about half the weight. I mean I've accepted the fact that my 170cm frame just won't do some of the things that theirs will. I say 170cm because it sounds so much better than 5'6.9". Yes, that .9 is extremely important because then I can officially round up to 5'7" and avoid the "pocket gay" status of the 5'6"ers. But there I am, a (barely) 20-something Average Joe who could probably kick the panties off the Greek gods.
Beauty is such a funny thing in this big gay world of ours, though. How much time and energy and money and tears do we spend on trying to make ourselves look better? Does it even matter? Don't they always say that it's what's on the inside that counts? Funny that it's often the ugly people who say that while the beautiful are getting everything they could dream of.
Perhaps that's why I prefer to dream and forget to live.
It can sometimes be very difficult to believe in yourself if you're not typically counted among the wealthy or beautiful or highly intelligent. Perhaps that's why we watch those who are thusly gifted, hoping to experience some of their greatness for a moment, perhaps even wishing that some of their je ne sais quoi will rub off on us. If anyone finds out how this works, let me know.
But when the world seems to crumble around us from greed, bigotry, incompetence, shady government surveillance, etc., at least enjoying something beautiful can make the ride to hell a little less ugly.