A story of hope-ish or WHY LOOKS MATTER

In the extremely unlikely even that any one has taken the time to read by previous, and extremely irregular, posts on this site; allow me summarise. I have been suffering from painful, almost crippling bouts of depression and low mood over the last few years and recently I found this place as a safe venue in which to vent my tear-stained frustrations. The essential rubric of my previous posts has revolved around my inability to find a partner (always in the shadow of my infinitely more romantically successful exes) and my overall level of self-loathing. While I've always been impressed (retrospectively and narcissistically) with how well written my posts have been they make for some tragic reading. I'm in my late twenties, was up until recently unemployed, have had very little by way of romantic companionship after the end of a painful and unhealthy relationship, overweight and generally unremarkable. I've never really fitted in with other gay guys; essentially, I like cock but I'm not very "gay". My posts have been a mash-up of the cliff-notes of The Bell Jar, the very worst of emo music and all seen through a slightly Stanley Kubrick/terrible SAW sequel lens.... Man, I don't sound crazy at all.

Well, I guess it gets better.

While there has been no movement on the romantic front (I was about to date one particular dashing young gent - but it emerged that his lifestyle and mine were totally incompatible, for reasons that I suspect would render me completely unpopular on this forum) and it still kills me and makes me wish the same for all the happy-go-lucky, gay married/dating/fucking around homosexuals I seem to be surrounded by... in my lesser moments at least. Essentially, I still hate them but it takes up a lot less of my time and brainpower.

The fundamental point is that my bouts of extreme low mood and utter hopelessness are certainly less frequent and don't last for as long, while they are are no less severe. When I'm down.... fuck everyone for not fucking me *ahem*.

I would love to connect this improvement, slight as it may be, with some great improvement in my way of thinking, opinion of the others against whom I direct my jealously/ire or anything really but it really boils down to one phenomenon. I found the ideal job. I love what I do for a living and it has expunged whatever talent-based neuroses I previously had to deal with. I wake up in the morning without any time to be sad/mad/fucking furious and go to bed in much the same way. This is not even to touch on the financial security which comes with it. Things in my professional life have improved one-hindered per cent.

(N.B. If you've been brought here by the subtitle of my post for whatever reason...grab your popcorn, it's either going to be great or you'll hate it)

Furthermore, I've cleaned myself up and look at my physical appearance (which previously, and occasionally still, I couldn't stand - seriously, broken mirrors and everything). I've fixed my hair and I'm working out to change the unacceptable to the acceptable. Cliches become cliches because of the nugget of truth involved so I guess you could call my physical appearance a "work in progress" - if you must. Things are...getting better in this case too.

Which brings me to the point at which most people will probably head for the [X] button and storm off this feed with impotent rage - LOOKS DEFINITELY MATTER.... No, no, no! Don't...Don't even!... Don't start! They do. No one (baring those who we would probably prefer not to be walking the streets) wants to fuck someone in the brain/personality/"soul" - again if you must - No one! While I admit that there will be a physio-psychological connection between my improved diet, busied mind, decreasing waistline and snazzy haircut and my improved and stabilised mood... it's also because I'm looking, if not hot (I'm nowhere near that yet) but certainly hotter. I get a second look these days.. if not a third... yet. I would like to go on record as saying that I believe the classic "looks aren't everything" bullshit line which is fed to people, such as me, who regularly detest our own appearances is at best nonsense (again... no one gets an erection for a personality - no matter what you tell yourself - it's a physical response to physical/aesthetic stimuli) and is at worst a delusion. If you're feeling awful about how you look... change it, or at least try to. If you feel you look like shit then maybe you do. If you try to improve then at least you have that. It's working for me, I think and I hope. If you don't feel fine then maybe you're not.

I'm not sure what I really want my conclusion to be to this post. I suppose I might try and offer something of a defence of the true (if probably unpopular) things I've said about myself and about others, but then you've already decided if you like what I've had to say and, on an anonymous forum, that means you've decided if you like me so I'm going to leave my words as they are. For anyone still reading, my approach has worked for me...or at least it's working.

 

My friends, I'll start with a little throat-clearing that I hope will address the main overall theme which I may have failed to clarify sufficiently before doing my best to address your individual points. I do not believe that looks are ALL that matter all I am saying is that saying that they don't is, as I said, steaming coils of bullshit. Of course a viable partner has to have aspects like a compatible sense of humour, interests, sufficient similarities and differences to keep things fun, sensitivities and others for a relationship to be anything more than a non-event. These things do matter...but so do looks, particularly in the early moments. Hence my problem; I'm deficient in looks, looks are important ergo I'm failing to gather even the most wretched crumbs of love or lust form life's tablecloth.

Sek, I believe that how we are perceived by others is incredibly important when it comes to finding a fuck or something more than that and that looks are a fundamental component of perception. Arousal is primarily a tactile and visual event and if the ingredients aren't there then it just doesn't happen. Try fucking someone unattractive and anyone will get my point. Therefore, the perceptions of others, in your words when they "lust after you" is highly important in this entire area of life. Otherwise, it's just a wank. I'd like to ask one question, in all sincerity, how does one thing about oneself mentally? I'm genuinely curious.

headie2infinity, I have very little to quarrel with you on really. I agree with you that looks and internals are important, although I suspect we may disagree to the extent to which each area really matters. I find your point about the most beautiful people being the least confident interesting because I'm not sure it matters; they're beautiful, the genetic and lifestyle lottery grand prize is already theirs... the other prizes ought not to be of importance.

PatrickPH, again not sure I have much to argue with. I hope it works out with your crush and I wish you all the happiness in the world. I'll perhaps use my answer to your point to make a confession... Giving second chances is incredibly difficult for me, I try, but I struggle. Once I'm marked someone out as either not attractive to me or so far out of my league to render it a waste of time it becomes hard to change my opinion. It usually doesn't matter because I can't really remember what it's like to have interest shown in me.... I'm more familiar with the sensation of being hit by a bus, then a car, then a tank, then the Batmobile.

scxred, thank you for challenging me on my point there, I was tiring as I started to write that party and so perhaps wasn't as erudite as I ought to have been. I'm afraid you'll have to believe me when I say that I didn't judge him in so much as thinking because he felt comfortable presenting himself in a particular way then he was somehow less than me or anyone else. His choice, character and all the rest of it are his business exclusively and I'm not in a position to judge it. All I'm saying is that I wouldn't want to have to ask someone to change their lifestyle to suit mine or my tastes or comforts. That wouldn't be right.

I worry that I've come across as a bit of asshole in this thread. I'm not but I believe that harsh truths and brutal realities are better than self-affirming gobbledegook. I'm glad that we agree on the importance of looks in bringing people together in anything other than a social or profession way and I hope I've made it clear that although I believe them to be paramount I do not believe that other things don't matter.

I'm just a lonely, ugly, overweight, bitter, broken, discombobulated, depressed, furious, envious, dull, hate-filled, psychopathically paranoid, confidence-deficient, cynical, pessimistic, frustrated, isolated, delusional weirdo who, in the ironic words of Queen, needs somebody to love... or to be able to.

 

Ok, we met during a meeting with a charity I volunteer with and then ended up on a night out together. I was very much attracted to him and he seemed totally my type (mix of good looks and self-deprivation/sarcasm/hint of ego). We smooched a little and went out separate ways. We organised a date but it never happened as I saw him post lots of bondage/S&M/leather stuff on a social media site. I don't judge but it doesn't do it for me.

... that second point is much easier. When I'm at my lowest, that's exactly how I feel.

 

Nah, he said it was fundamental to himself, which I can respect. Also, what do you do when you can't see a positive?

 

I think you're right but with one slight caveat. I do have a lot of self-hate left, it's reduced and reducing but there's still quite a bit. Also, you're totally on the money re: getting dressed up helping. I guess all I need to figure out, once the reconstruction of my body is complete (still a long way off but getting there) is how to sort out the bit that isn't physical or aesthetic. How to get that little voice that repeatedly points tells me I'm unlovable, unlovable and just plain no good to shut up or say something nice. I guess I just feel like I'm outside some exclusive club of toned, preened, happy-go-lucky guys with the secret of good dating and sex which Im not party to. Both the club and the voice are metaphors in this case I should add.