What makes me not sexy

It doesn’t feel right to toot my horn. I’m working on a post, inspired by Cammies on the Floor, about what it is that makes me sexy. But I learned a valuable lesson in 12-step land: lead with your weakness.

So, before I tell you, explicitly, all the things that make me sexy, let me start by telling you some of my less sexy attributes.

Intellectually:

I can be arrogant. My voice often belies my stated humility, telegraphing that, even though I say I’m humble, modest, open, in fact, in my heart of hearts, I generally believe not just that I’m right, but that I’m better. This is, surely, born of insecurity and fear.

Related, I can be smug. Try though I might, I can’t wipe a smirk off my face.

I can be narcissistically myopic. I often find it difficult to imagine that things I see clearly aren’t clear to all. Sometimes, this is a question of perspective. Others, a question of delusion. It’s never charming. (See the discussion of creep shots a few years ago.)

Characterologically:

I can be unimaginably selfish. My years as a CPOS serve as irrefutable evidence of this. And, would that my selfishness had died. It hasn’t.

I can be excruciatingly stubborn. I can be deeply unpleasant to argue with.

I’m manipulative. I try to organize the world to serve my desires. And I’m shockingly successful.

I’m weak. I’m a creature of my desires, far more than I’d like to be.

Physically:

I weigh ten or fifteen pounds more than I’d like. I have a little belly. Not huge, but I’m not as trim as I’d like. A few years ago, I was pretty cut. Not so much right now.

I’m shorter than I’d like. Average height, to be sure. But I wish I were taller.

I’m bald. I shave my head, but not a day goes by that I don’t long for the days I had long curly hair.

Like 90% of men, I wish my cock were bigger. Unlike most of those, I know, definitively, that mine is smaller than average.

I’m in poor aerobic shape. Though I’m fit enough, my stamina (not sexual, aerobic) is poor.

Sexually:

I’m kinda monotonous. I mean, read the blog. If I had a nickel for every time a woman had complained that I’d done something with her she’d read about my doing with someone else, and that made her feel bad, I’d have a LOT of nickels.

I’m just not that into fucking. I mean, I like it fine and all, but not infrequently, I lose my erection, and I’d almost always prefer more oral.

When I do fuck, I really prefer that you ride me/I drive you while you ride me to a good old-fashioned pounding from the rear, or what have you.

This blog, surely, is a testament to my weaknesses. I’m sure I left many out. If you feel inclined to point them out to me, please do so gently.