I don’t like a man with too many muscles…
In yet another example of how inaccurately I see myself, I was told by a patron last Saturday night that “I don’t like you big, muscley men. I like the skinny boiz.” Wow. I’m 5’7″ or 5’8″, and even with all the working out I’ve been doing I still weigh less than #150. But okay. Wasn’t expecting that one. My friend Carlos smiled and said, “Get used to it, papi – you’re getting hotter.”
What I’m learning to let go of is making all of that such a priority. I’m not writing this entry because he hurt my feelings, but because I was forced to take a pause. In the same night I was also told, “I like the big fellas, sorry.” Mhm. I think I fill a non-niche: The not-big-enough-to-be-manly-but-too-big-to-be-a-twink category. In other words, the neither/nor category that no one seems to want. LOL Oh well, I work with what I’ve got. You could do alot worse.
But in all fairness to me: I am beginning to achieve my personal goals on many levels. I feel I’m going to be one of those annoying people who keeps getting better with age. I’m fine with that: A refined Pinot Noir has more depth than a can of Red Bull or bottle of Diet Coke. Plus I’m beginning to really invest in appreciating that I have a whole lot more to me than my external “stuff.” So, on the one hand, yes, I do need to pay attention when someone says, “I don’t like a man with too many muscles,” but on the other I also feel obliged to quip, “I didn’t make him… for YOU!” (click the image with this article to see the joke I’m referencing)