I share a lot of pictures that I find on the internet. I’m sure many of you have noticed this. A significant percentage of these photos are celebrations of male beauty. I’m not sure that everyone realizes this, but not every picture I post represents my own tastes. I’ll post a picture of a guy if it’s a good picture, and if I think someone, anyone on my friends list might appreciate it. I do this because it makes me feel good when I pick one that brings a lot of positive feedback. I enjoy the camaraderie of appreciating male beauty with others openly and without shame.
Most of my life this joy has been denied me. I grew up terrified that someone would find out my secret, my dirty, shameful little secret. I’m very shy, so even after going away to college, I didn’t have a huge circle of friends. Then when I became emotionally unstable, I was even more socially isolated. By my late 20s, I didn’t really have any friends left. I spent most of my time alone in my apartment. Then after my head surgeries, I ended up moving back in with my parents in the small town of Fayetteville, WV.
After my parents died, I moved to California thinking it would be easier out here, but I landed in one of the straightest towns in the state. I was here four years before I met a fellow gay person who lives in the area.
For the record, I’m not especially keen on bears. I’m not crazy about an abundance of body hair, or large muscles. I’m also not crazy about exaggerated displays of traditional masculinity. Scowls and cigar smoking just doesn’t do much for me. I’m not saying that bears and muscle guys or he-man types are bad people. I’m not saying that I could never care for someone like that. They just don’t usually draw my eye.
I like boyishly cute guys. I like young men who are more pretty than handsome. I like guys who give the impression of being sweet and gentle. Maybe that’s because I’ve longed to have a special friend like that in my life ever since I was a teenager, and it never happened. I like short guys. Maybe because I am short myself, and I like to imagine holding a guy and looking directly into his eyes. I like thin guys. Maybe because I’ve always been a little chunky even when I was younger, but I longed to be thin. I like especially tall, thin guys with long legs, too. I don’t know why I like young men like this, I just do.
I don’t think it’s at all likely at this point that I’ll have a serious relationship with one of these young men. I don’t think it’s at all likely that I’ll have an ephemeral relationship with one of these young men. I’m nearly 50, penniless, significantly over weight, disabled, extremely shy and I have Bell’s palsy. I can’t even smile without looking insane. But I hoped that here I could at long last feel safe enough to admit to and own my feelings.
However, I don’t often feel very safe here. I can post pictures of hairy men with big muscles all day long and nearly ever single comment will be glowing. But if I post a picture of someone that I especially like, I usually get at least one negative comment, and sometimes it’s one negative comment right after another. Sometimes they might be mild, but sometimes they’re pretty harsh. Sometimes the comments have actually made me cry.
Perhaps I’m being overly sensitive, but I think I’ve earned a right to be sensitive. And I think I deserve to be able to express myself openly and freely without shame, at least here.
I have talked about this on more than one occasion, but it seems to just go over the heads of some. I don’t understand why people feel the need to post negative comments about the pictures they don’t care for. It almost never happens when I post pictures of art, or nature or puppies, kittens or architecture. But if I post a picture of a guy who doesn’t have a lot of hair or muscle, or if he doesn’t appear to be manly, the fangs will come out.
I appreciate my Facebook friends. You all keep me company. You inspire me. You teach me. And in many ways, you support me. So it’s unlikely I’ll go anywhere any time soon. But if I feel the need to hide a part of myself even here, and self-sensor something as benign as finding someone like Dylan O'Brien cute, then I wonder what exactly am I doing here.
Just so you know, I’m very vulnerable. I’m easily spooked and scared away. And after all the attacks, put downs, threats and hostile comments that began when I was a toddler, I’m especially touchy about anything relating to sexuality or expectations of gender conformity.
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