I’m not shredded. I don’t have a six-pack that glistens under club lights or cheekbones sharp enough to slice air. But I’ve got a broad chest, thick legs, and a build that doesn’t flinch when a mate jumps on your back.
Sturdy. Solid. Like a fridge with feelings.

I’ve spent years learning to take photos that hit the right angle, shoulders back, chin down, soft light. The holy trinity of “functional strength, with a hint of thirst trap.” And honestly? Fair enough. A man’s got to eat and occasionally feed the algorithm.

But lately I’ve been thinking about how gay spaces and gay standards shape how we see ourselves. There’s that meme that does the rounds every few months:

“The body I want. The body I’m attracted to.”
It’s meant to be funny — but it’s also painfully true.

We’re living in a community where “fitspo” isn’t just aesthetic, it’s currency. And it’s wild, because the same people who tell you they’re into sturdy, broad, strong guys will often only like or post the chiseled ones. Attraction that happens in private, not public.

I’m not bitter about it, I get it. We’re all trying to navigate our own reflections through a hall of mirrors made of thirst traps and self-esteem. But it’s interesting to experience that double standard in real time: desired in the DMs, invisible on the grid.

Learning to Take Up Space

What’s changed for me is that I no longer treat my body like it’s in progress.
This isn’t a “before.” It’s the full picture.
It’s the body that carries me through life, through mornings at the gym, through nights on the dance floor, through moments of joy and exhaustion and everything in between.

And yeah, I still flex when the lighting hits just right (I’m not that evolved) but it’s no longer about chasing approval. It’s about recognising that my body tells my story, and I like that story.

The Quiet Revolution of Being Comfortable

There’s power in being a little sturdier.
In being the guy who takes up space instead of apologising for it.
In knowing that strength and softness can live in the same frame.

So if you see me sweaty, shirtless, and a little out of breath, just know I’m not trying to be someone else’s aesthetic. I’m living in my own.

Here’s to the sturdy boys. We don’t need filters, but we’ll still take one when the light hits just right.