Guy #93 – Back when I was chubby…

Among other things I am not an underwear model.

The main reason is that I like chips, recipes that involve lots of sour cream, pasta, pizza and more pasta. All of this is stuff that makes me happy.

Happy and chubby.

At least, it did for a while in my late twenties.
At the time I lived in Suriname, where I enjoyed the perks of being one of the only white Guys in town. Despite a history of slavery and racism generally associated with my pigmentation, people considered my color a delicacy. Enticing a Guy in Suriname was so easy I didn’t pay much attention to my body: In a game of rock, paper, scissors, color trumped shape.

Or so I thought.

Guy #93 could have been an underwear model. He clearly had a lot of gym hours above his belt. He was also clearly disappointed when my clothes came off.

Back when I was still a virgin I felt unattractive and undoable. Most of the 92 Guys I had been with since had elevated my ego to the point I considered myself hot-ish. I knew my abs were subpar, but I also assumed that color trumps abs.

While Guy #93 no doubt appreciated the way my skin lit up the darkness, the skin itself was wobbly, shaky and puffy. I held my breath for good measure, but there’s only so many places fat can go to hide. Besides, I needed that breath as well, for breathing and such.

My date with Guy #93 transpired quickly and without emotion. I could tell I was being pitysexed. Guy #93, beautiful as he was, resented me on some level. And then he started resenting himself.
I’ve had a lot of pity sex in my life. To my knowledge, this was the only time I was the one being pitied.


Although we had some online chats after our date, Guy #93 never showed any interest in meeting up with me again. Occasionally I would see him at our local gay bar, where he would pretend not to know me.

The day after our date I looked at myself in the mirror. I had become a first world problem: It’s impossible to gorge on vanity and chocolate at the same time. Also, doing push-ups sucks the life out of you, especially when you smoke and eat chocolate and like pasta.

For the sake of the story I could say it was in that moment I decided to shape up. In reality, it took me a few months to buy some running shoes, another month or so before I started to run and do some exercise, followed a few weeks later by little changes in my diet.
The reason change came slow was because I still looked pretty lean with my clothes on, chocolate had never tasted better and I guess one could argue my lack of confidence was a factor.

Also, surely I wasn’t the only one who held my breath to look prettier during sex. And push-ups suck the life out of you.

Alright, it was 90% lack of confidence and 10% laziness, which in itself was probably rooted in low self esteem as well. These days people take many pictures of mirrors, but looking into one often proves a bigger challenge.

It has never been my intention to become an underwear model, nor will I ever desire abs as I do food. Guy #93 did inspire me to strike a healthier or at least better looking balance.

These days I actually look kinda hot-ish when I hold my breath.



Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 1 hour
FORMAT: Pity sex
SEX SCORE (0 = German accents <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 6.5

Guy #80 – All about the abs…

Guy #80 had killer abs. In fact, his entire body was a cover of Men’s Health.

His penis was as Asian as the rest of him though.

Also, Guy #80 struck me as one of the loneliest individuals I’ve ever come across.

The two of us first met each other at an all male twink orgy one night in Amsterdam. He stood at the bar, quite obviously trying to hide his shyness behind his drink. Being the hunter that I am I temporarily rid him of his insecurity by semi-accidentally touching him. Touch became fun and eventually we exchanged phone numbers. It took me about four texts to get invited to his place.

I kind of enjoyed Guy #80’s loneliness. Or rather I appreciated how his loneliness worked for me.

Usually when Guys are lonely they get clingy, obsessive and mistake sex for the start of a commitment that lasts well into retirement. Guy #80 didn’t do any of that. Instead he made sure he looked good as a means to get people to stay with him.
His house was quite literally covered with magazines about fitness, health and ways to stay in shape after 25. Abs were his obsession. He even did sit-ups in my presence a few times. I think they were part of his obsessive compulsive disorder: I have to do 40 crunches an hour or else the universe will implode.

When I complimented Guy #80 on his body he shrug it off, saying he was fat. I told him I was the fat one. I really was. I recently had a mono infection and had spent four months in bed, eating junk food, watching entire seasons of 24 in a day and eating more chocolate. Still Guy #80 had less qualms with my body than his own.

Which made the sex modestly awesome, save for that Asian penis.

Guy #80 was into me. He made me feel as hot as he was. The difference between the two of us was that when he complimented my penis, I didn’t shrug it off. To Guy #80 the mere fact he was with someone lifted his spirits. His enthusiasm in turn lifted anything I had to offer.

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Usually Kleenex signal the end of a sex date, but Guy #80 really wanted me to stay the night. I was happy to oblige him.

Of course I felt sorry for Guy #80 and his low self esteem. Apart from the many, many fitness magazines his house was void of anything personal. It was neat and clean and always prepared for visitors, but I could tell I was one of the few people to have been inside.

In a way Guy #80 reminded me of my former self. I used to be an expert in hiding behind drinks, desperately holding on to your glass even when there’s nothing but ice left. When I first started having sex with Guys I weighed my own imperfections far, far more than I did those of my fellow maters. I often find it’s the most beautiful people who think the least of themselves. It takes time and Guys to embrace your own beauty despite your belief in its absence. It takes time and Guys to let go of doing 40 crunches an hour to prevent the universe from imploding in on you.

Me and Guy #80 spent two nights together, about two years apart. Not long after our last date his Facebook status changed to in a relationship. Not long after that his Facebook wall started showing signs of a social life.

I’m happy Guy #80 outgrew his Asian penis.



Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 1 x 1 hour + 2 x 12 hours
FORMAT: Orgy hook-up followed by loving sex dates
SEX SCORE (0 = Sudoku’s <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.5


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