I’ve realised something recently: I get more compliments from straight men than I do from gay men.

Case in point: I’m in the elevator at work, doors open, and a straight guy walks in, looks me up and down and goes:

“Geez bro, what juice are you on? You’re huge!”

For the record, no juice. Just hard work, stubborn consistency, and thicc boy genetics. But suddenly I’m explaining what a full-body split & KPI movements for progressive overload to a guy who just wanted to know “how much do you bench?”.

Then there was the airport baggage screening guy who paused mid-search, looked at me, and asked if I had protein powder in my carry-on because I was “looking absolutely stacked, bro.” Like… TSA but make it flirty.

And countless small moments: the “mate, those arms are unreal” from a stranger on the street, the nod of respect from a tradie at the café, the guy in a pub toilet who casually says “solid build, man” while washing his hands. Straight men, my unsolicited hype team.

Meanwhile, in Gay Land…

Gay men? Silence. Maybe the occasional “looking thick” DM on Instagram. But mostly: quiet appraisal, invisible mental benchmarking, or just scrolling past me like I’m beige wallpaper.

Part of me thinks it’s because gay men are so hyper-calibrated to their own preferences (body type, face, style) that compliments feel like risky business. Straight men, meanwhile, see big arms and say big arms. Simple. Efficient. Zero politics.

My Lowkey Delulu Interpretations

Some compliments are less direct, but my brain insists on taking them as compliments anyway:

A guy clocks me, then puffs his chest out. My brain: respect acknowledged.

A man with his girlfriend gives me the once-over, then pulls her in closer. My brain: he’s worried, but babe, it’s not your girlfriend I’m after.

Delulu? Maybe. But I’m taking the win.

Why It’s Kind of Nice

There’s something refreshingly uncomplicated about straight-man admiration. They don’t couch it in camp irony or quiet judgment. They just notice, say something, and move on with their day.

And honestly? It’s kind of lovely.

So here’s to the random straight guys in lifts, airports and pub toilets, my unexpected hype squad. And to the gay men: let’s normalise just saying “nice arms” without turning it into a game of silent Olympic scoring.