The Gym, My Body and My Sex Life
There is something about sexualizing your body, by yourself. Seeing yourself as a sexual being, understanding why you are wanted, looking through the eyes of those who desire you. It’s a high worth chasing. A high that makes you grateful for genes? Time spent at the gym? Diet? All of them? Few things come close to basking in the knowledge that you are a gorgeous creature, a creature deserving of the chase, of being desired. Not for your company, your wits, what you may or may not have in your bank account. No. Entirely because your ass is fat, your body stunning, your face and body set. It is possibly problematic that I view it through the prey vs predator lens of being chased. But I won’t unpack that today. Today, we will unpack how sexy I am. Not good-looking, not fine, not attractive. Sexy. And why that is important.
I grew up knowing I was intelligent, perhaps too aware of it. It is hard not to notice you are the teachers’ pet everywhere you go. It is hard not to see that you consistently go home with the best results, that when the teacher isn’t there, everyone defers to you for an opinion. I knew I was an intelligent kid whose intelligence got him a lot in life. I, however, didn’t think I was fine at first — that came later — nor did I think I was proper good-looking — that came much later in life when I finally had social media and realized I got attention that not everyone did. And I only realized I was sexy — could be sexy — perhaps a few months ago. I started going to the gym in March 2021. I had gotten my medical results a few months before, and by March, I realized pushing it off for much longer was just tempting fate. For a few months, I stuck to Cardio — I had a goal, to get certain things under control, and I didn’t want to do much more than that — and then somewhere along the line, I realized. My body banging.
It seems almost vulgar to say, really. However, it must be said.
It wasn’t some dramatic change — although yes, there was change — that made me come to this realization. It was the motions of the gym. Of working my body, of having to look at the mirror even more often than I usually do, of having to care for it. Feed it enough, stress it out enough, rest it enough. It forced me to spend time thinking of my body, understanding it, learning about it. It is hard to know someone honestly and not love it, perhaps the same is true of a person’s body. I think it is true of me with mine. Developing that relationship with my body — especially without the unnecessary pressure of trying to force it to look one way, giving it grace when it couldn’t quite get to a form when I would prefer I did and celebrating it when it performed even better than I could have hoped — made me like my body.
From liking it, it became easier — surprisingly easier — to consider it sexy. Seeing those changes, even the ones other people can’t notice because they do not know your body the way to do — you notice your arms getting bigger, you run faster, get tired less quickly, your glutes show off when you wear shorts -makes you get it. Get why you can be, why you are the prize worth chasing.
I, for a while, thought I was asexual. I still have a lot of issues around sex, issues I hope to explore and resolve as I continue to navigate life and sex and relationships. However, for me, understanding the why behind people sexualizing me, wanting me caused a domino effect. Forcing me to first, really look at my body and like it, forcing me to process the shame I have about my body and sex, and without that shame — which has largely been replaced by ‘damn, that body’ — all that is left is me, a person who wants to be seen even sexually and want to show off and understands why he is seen sexually. The result? For the first time in my life, a desire to want to have sex as well as a much-improved sex life.
Perhaps, I should have titled this ‘I Get Why Everyone Wants To Fuck Me’. Because I do, now.
