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Gimme, gimme, gimme (a man after midnight)

In that sometimes frantic search for the ‘perfect’ man, some gay men seem to forget that ‘perfection’ apart from being in the eye of the beholder, is something so amorphous and imprecise that it rarely means the same for two people.

I have heard men basically tear down somebody because is toes are not ‘perfect’. His TOES. Who the hell criticizes somebody’s toes? How can we have fallen pray of a culture so shallow and so given to minutia that we focus on a person’s basically unchangeable Detail to decide they are not attractive enough?

In this age of commodified interactions, finding ‘perfection’ has become obsessively common. From social media promoting stylized snippets of life to hookup apps providing a never ending menu of possibilities, that search for the ‘perfect man’ seems to have reached fevered heights.

What happened to sex appeal? What happened to personality? What happened to charm? I have to admit that I’d rather let a good conversationalist occupy my evening than go after the guy with the big pecs and flat stomach. Oh, I can appreciate big pecs and a flat stomach. Of course I can. I will look at them and realize they don’t come easy. But I’m personally more turned on by a guy’s smarts than by his low body fat count.





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