Guy #164 – Attractiveness means nothing. And everything.

Here’s the thing with being attractive: It doesn’t really mean anything. And it means everything.

Attractiveness is a conflict in and of itself.

In many ways I feel I’ve been blessed with my looks, as I generally receive decent amounts of attention from Guys.

At the same time I get rejected all the time. While it’s impossible to dive into the mind of others to acquire their perspective on me, the general assumption is that people who reject me do so because they don’t find me attractive enough to have sex with.

So whenever I go to a place where my merit is measured by my looks I’m a walking conflict, blessed with attention and burdened with the few I don’t get it from.

I should add that, even though I’m a hunter, I am unbelievably bad at picking up Guys. I try to be smooth about it, hitting up Guys as if I’m Joey from FRIENDS. But no matter how hard I try to be a Joey, a Ross or even a Chandler, I always end up a Gunther somehow.

The result is that I mostly depend on people hitting on me to get laid.

And I don’t get hit on very often.

Being a hunter who’s barely hunted himself, I sometimes go through endless nights of futile attempts to get intimate with someone. Sometimes I go for hours without a successful hook-up. Attractiveness means nothing, but after hours of nothingness I generally start to question my looks, thinking that maybe I’ve been overrating myself all these years, that Guys have sex with me out of pity as often as I have pity sex with them. The more unattractive I feel, the more important a feature it becomes.

So when Guy #164 started chasing me down our little gay sauna maze I was at first relieved. Then I took a look at him. Attractiveness means nothing, but it also means everything. In the case of Guy #164 I considered him unattractive enough to reject. Having sex with him, I figured, would only help to lower my market value even more. Even less than wanting to have sex with him, I didn’t want other people to see me having sex with him. Allowing Guy #164 to go down on me would be like having a white trash family exchange their trailer for a mansion. Guy #164 would be the Trump to my White House.

When Guy #164 first reached for my testicles I pushed his hands back and walked away. Guy #164 however persisted, following me and trying to push me against a wall several times. I hated him for it, but at the same time I couldn’t help but enjoy that feeling of being wanted. Gunther doesn’t get to feel like that very often.

So I took a closer look at Guy #164 and decided that, although I don’t have a thing for Guys with beards, at least this beard was kind enough to cover his face.

Guy #164 and I had sex for about ten minutes. He seemed to be enjoying it. I enjoyed the fact at least one person found me attractive.

“Can I have your phone number?” Guy #164 asked me when I interrupted the sex for the sake of not having it anymore.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Please, you’re so beautiful.”
Even though I felt I was way above Guy #164’s league, he was the only one that night to tell me I was pretty. It felt good to hear, while at the same time I resented the compliment for coming from a Guy I couldn’t give it to in return.
“We’ll let fate decide if we ever meet again,” I said, the second time I used that line to distance myself from someone without it having to be a cold hearted rejection.

I walked out on Guy #164, took a shower, and went home quickly.

When I started writing about every Guy I ever had sex with I was very much under the impression love and sex are inseparable. Even Guys that cruise, Guys who frequent places so dark rejection and passion are evenly secluded from the outside, Guys who spend their weekends doing drugs and hunting for mating partners, are in it for love, even if they say it’s just sex.
“Every Guy you see here is looking for love,” I once proclaimed to Guy #168 when I ran into him at the same sauna I met #164.
“Every Guy you see here is looking to love himself,” Guy #168 reasoned, a small but probably just distinction.

I never had sex with Guy #164 because I wanted to love him. Instead, he allowed me to love myself a little. And then, being the wonderful Guy that I am, I resented him for it and walked out on him.

Attractiveness means nothing. And everything.

Guy #106 – Damn that beauty…

It is said that looks don’t matter. This is of course the biggest lie since Bill Clinton did not have sexual relations with that woman. Looks can fuel a crush as much as cigars can define a presidency.

In terms of hormones, Guy #106 to date has been the only Guy to get me hard at first sight. I could attempt to describe him, but for the sake of the story simply imagine the most beautiful person you’ve ever met and ever will meet.

Guy #106 and I spent one night together. The first few hours we talked in the absence of any physical contact. It made me wonder if he was even into me. I considered Guy #106 so beautiful I did not dare initiate a first move. It was he who had started our conversation. It was he who offered me a drink. And it was he who asked if I was up for sex.

It’s one thing to desire beauty. It’s a whole other thing to be desired by it.

The sex itself was what I would call spectacular. My lack of initiative dissipated the moment we got naked and I pleasantly surprised myself with my adequacy as I surrendered myself to the desires of my desire. If heaven is a place that houses 72 Guy #106’s I could empathize with people that fly planes into buildings.

Of course, the dimly lit cell that is a cabin in a gay sauna is about as far from heaven as a gay Guy can be. After exploring each other for a good few hours Guy #106 got ready to give me what I had wanted him to give me the moment I first saw him…and then he came. As such, the trip to heaven lost to gravity just as my hands reached for the clouds.

Guy #106 felt bad about it. I on the other hand was flattered and cuddled up next to him. For a long time we simply cuddled and talked, which I guess has always been my favorite sexual position. Not only was guy #106 drop dead gorgeous, he had a mind, feelings, thoughts, enough material to keep our conversation going for hours.

When morning broke Guy #106 suggested the two of us check into a cheap hotel and continue the weekend there. I wanted to, but instead I told him my mother had recently been diagnosed with ovarian cancer and that we had a family thing I would feel guilty for not attending, given the circumstances.

There really was a family thing and I really would have felt guilty for checking into a hotel with Guy #106. It’s also true I opened up about my mother’s illness to bring depth to a relationship that wasn’t really a relationship. For all the intimacy we shared we were still mostly strangers.

In lieu of flying to heaven in a hotel room I left Guy #106 my phone number. He texted me later that day (just as I was engaged in an epic battle of mini golf with family) saying he had enjoyed his time with me.
I’m not the kind of person that pursues a commitment, but when it comes to beauty I do tend to behave like an addict. Guy #106 got me high for a short while, but I quickly craved for more. So I texted back, asking when we could meet again. He said he’d have to check his schedule. I gave him dates when I’d be available. He said he’d really have to check his schedule.

He’s been checking his schedule for four years now. For years and counting.


I suck at playing hard to get, blissfully unaware of the fact my initial shyness was the very thing that made me worth chasing. I had been hard to get without realizing it. My reluctance to make even a hint of a first move had created a certain equality between Guy #106 and me. Now that I knew he found me attractive and nice to be around with I had completely submitted myself to his beauty, neglecting my own in the process. As a result I stopped being the delicious prey I was when Guy #106 first laid eyes on me.

If ever there was a Guy I’d like to meet again, it’s Guy #106. Not because I want to have sex with him – well, not just because I want us to cuddle above the cloud deck – but because he’s someone I’d want to know.
Most Guys I met have Grindr profiles, Facebook accounts or Instagram selfies. Guy #106 turned out to be a digital ghost I only knew by his first name. Maybe that’s for the best. I’m about to publish this post labeling him as the most beautiful Guy I’ve ever been with. It doesn’t get much less hard to get than that.

I do regret not checking into a hotel with him.
I regret it every time I see beauty.



Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 6 hours
SEX SCORE (0 = Gravity <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9.6

Guy #91 – Abs and brains.

People reading this blog probably would’t think of me as the relationship type. The format of my relationships is overtly sexual most of the time.

While I’m open to the possibility of a commitment, the thing I’m actively looking for is a connection in any way, shape or form or position.

I met Guy #168 last weekend, finally rendering the name of this blog valid. He was one of the best connections I ever had, like the best parts of this blog combined into one person. In short, he had abs and brains.

Like Guy #91.

Guy #91 was a pleasant surprise. He had made quite the effort to meet up with me. I believe I ignored him the first couple of times he hit me up online. His profile picture just didn’t quite do it for me. But there are of course days when boredom inspires an open mind. It was on one such day I gave this Guy a shot at becoming my Guy #91.

When he stepped into my car I was greeted by one of the cutest and most seductive smiles I had ever seen. Profile pictures always set you up for disappointment, except this time. Guy #91 was simply one of the most beautiful Guys I had ever seen in any car.

As we drove to my place I could tell he liked the music I was playing. No Guy ever gets my taste in music.

Guy #91 was smart, funny and easy to talk to. We had no trouble getting on each other’s wavelengths and enjoying the view from there.

So where’s the conflict in this story?

Guy #91 quickly fell into my is this too good to be true?-category. That was the one thought I couldn’t get out of my head. Hitting abs and brains is like winning the lottery for me. Hitting abs and brains and my taste in music is like being struck by lightning twice in one day.

We spent a few hours together, during which we talked, laughed, got high and had sex. And while it was one of my best days as a human being ever, I couldn’t help but question my luck. The sheer beauty of what was lying in my bed was all but completely apparent, but I couldn’t submit to it.

Somehow I still had trouble accepting pleasure. Instead of wondering if this Guy was worthy of me, which is what I usually did during sex, I wondered if I was worthy of him.

When I have sex with people I consider less attractive I can pretend I don’t have issues with worthiness. Abs and brains render me more naked somehow.

Although Guy #91 stayed in touch over Facebook for a few years, we never saw each other again. The first time I had rejected him out of a sense of superiority. Now I was rejecting him out of shyness.

It’s not easy being a narcissist.

Guy #91 made repeated efforts to get back into my bed, but I kept him and his drop dead gorgeous smile at a distance, where my self esteem didn’t have to look at it.


Guy #91 and I eventually lost touch (though I’ve taken up the habit of liking his Instagram photos lately). We now live an ocean apart and I don’t have a car anymore, so chances of us meeting up anytime soon are slim.

Still, being with Guy #168 last weekend made me realize something:

Sometime after Guy #91 I started accepting pleasure.

Life is more fun when you’re not afraid of beauty.



Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 4 years
FORMAT: One time sexual date followed by Facebook friendship, followed by mutual Instagram validation
SEX SCORE (0 = US elections <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9.5

Guy #22 – My looks matter too…





It can’t be denied some of the guys you find on Craigslist are hot.

Guy #22 was one of those guys.

In fact, he was the hottest guy I had ever been with up till then. And I was already at a point where that meant something.

At first I considered myself lucky. What could possibly go wrong in the presence of sheer beauty?

Well, for starters it didn’t take me long to realize Guy #22 was hotter than I was. I couldn’t help but feel sorry he had to settle for me. I felt unworthy of the sex he agreed upon.

The sex was actually modestly spectacular, for me at least. I’m not sure if Guy #22 was having any fun. I don’t think he enjoyed me as much as I him.

As we were busy performing numerous pleasures on each other’s bodies I found myself constantly in awe of the body I was performing them on. I felt sorry for my own body in return. Guy #22 must have felt my inferiority. Even if he did find me attractive, my own shame must have masked most of what I had to offer.

We followed up the sex with a shower. Again, I was uncomfortable rubbing soap on something I considered too good to be mine. I literally didn’t know how to rub things the right way.

A few days after our 45 minute encounter I talked to Guy #22 on MSN, which people still used back then. I asked if he wanted us to meet up a second time.
‘Not really,’ he said. I was flattered by his honesty, but disappointed at the same time. I wondered if I would ever get another chance to be wanted by so much beauty again. Then again, I was never that wanted. I was granted, at best.

People with good therapists tend to believe looks don’t matter. I have a MSc. in Psychology and I think looks do matter. So either I’m a lousy therapist or looks are an important part of who we become in life. That’s not an ideology. It’s an observation.

Yet I also observed how looks are fluid, how they are mostly an extension of how you feel about yourself. I believe everybody looks as attractive as they feel.

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Had I felt more attractive in the presence of Guy #22, he might have wanted me a second time. Still, him granting me access to his beauty made me feel more beautiful. I know, our personalities hardly played a role. At the time I was still caught up in discovering my own personality and lacked the mental capacity to really dive into the minds of people I met through Craigslist.

Had I met Guy #22 today I probably would have tried to get to know him. I would have allowed him to know me. And then the sex might have been really spectacular, and plentiful.
We could have granted each other much more than we did.

I wasted Guy #22 and quite a few hotties after him, simply by referring to them as hotties. Whenever I consider a guy a hottie it’s an expression of insecurities about my own looks. Those insecurities prevented a lot of pleasant sex from becoming phenomenal sex.

Whenever I think back about guys like Guy #22, I often wish I could see them again. I would love to have a conversation with Guy #22, find out what makes him tick.

Then again, his Craigslist ad at the time specifically stated he was an ‘athletic top in search of NSA fun’. He never wanted our relationship to last more than an hour.

Guys often make it difficult to find love in each other.
We’re like people that way.




Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 45 minutes
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE: (0 = Having ‘the Talk’ with your parents <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.2

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