everyone's got their story

Everyone's got their story, the story that goes on inside their head.

Last night I had a phenomenal several hours with Sensual Vocal Midwest Dad. We went upstairs and explored a variety of positions and holds on the couch and the carpet. After we both orgasmed we spent possibly an equal amount of time holding and getting acquainted in conversation. He's sexy slender, I'm totally into him. He mentioned having felt self-conscious growing up, and not wanting to take his shirt off back then, feeling uncomfortable with his body. Wow, I think. The sight of him turns me on, as I'm sure to many other guys. I'm glad to see that he feels differently now.

He mentioned that a couple of years ago he wouldn't have approached someone like me. Ha, I think, someone like me? I'm slightly flattered, but also amused because the story inside my head is quite different. The story of my childhood still speaks loudly, though its being replaced. I think of myself as the fat boy, the one who couldn't do very many sit-ups and could barely run the mile. The one who weighed 50 pounds more than I do now as a teenager, and one who still now has to watch carefully what I eat most of the time since I gain weight so easily. I now really enjoy being in shape and doing my best to feel sexy. It's a work in progress. But the old story in my head is not far away.

One of my close friends has a beautiful body with a nice ass and coveted-by-many cock. He knows this brings attention from many guys, but feels otherwise inadequate. I'm not sure exactly what the story in his head is, but I'm often surprised at his shyness and statements he makes about himself.

On a recent trip to Argentina at a posh gay hotel I sat at the poolside admiring, among others, a "perfect" dark-haired tall guy in a red speedo. His face was beautiful, his muscles supple, skin bronzed. A ballsy muscley friend went up and talked to him, sat next to him. When I went up and spoke with them I was surprised to encounter Mr. Red Speedo Greek God as a shy French-accented cutie. The story in his head probably ran something like: "I'm not good enough. Damn I'm nervous. I wish I felt more confident." I had assumed that what I perceived as his outer perfection might equate with confidence or even arrogance. Neither was the case. Possibly as a kid he was different from now, judging himself as "too... this - or - that." Now even though he's made himself into a picture of fitness, the old tapes still likely play in his head. Who knows. But I assume he hasn't yet made the transition into being his own best self-mentor. Benevolent self-respecting tapes - or messages - in his head are still being re-written - hopefully.

And a swimmer roommate of mine a few years ago, despite his beauty, re-played often in his head his supposed physical imperfections. He commented on various features of his which he thought disqualified him from being beautiful. Most gay guys looking at him would have disagreed.

Everyone's got their story. I try to remember this as I approach guys. It helps me not be so nervous. It teaches me, if I am to influence others, to start with myself and be my own best champion. To let my own internal dialogue be honoring and blessing. And from that grounded place be honoring and blessing to others. Maybe if he sees through my eyes his greatness, he can - on his own - see it too.