How I came to love myself & the damaging consequence

I grew up in a place where the only gay people I was introduced to was through my 13-inch computer screen. What I saw were beautiful, Adonis-esque men as I sat in my computer chair, 50 pounds overweight and acne covering my jawline. It was then that I decided no one would ever love me. I was doomed into a life of living alone and munching on Flaming Hot Cheetos. I hated myself.

I continued this self hatred all through my high school years. I hid behind three feet of curly, curly hair and baggy clothes. I kept to myself and avoided eye contact with anyone. I let people murmur faggot without reacting. As I looked into the mirror in the morning, I over analyzed my body. I picked at the acne scabs on my face. I tried to wiggle my bottom, crooked teeth into a perfect wall of white. I squeezed my love handles, my untoned thighs, and large nipples with disgust.

But when I got to college, everything changed. The fear of my peers nearly dissipated overnight. I went to college alone, with no friends or acquaintances. It gave me the opportunity to reinvent myself. And I did. For the entire first semester of college, I didn’t make friends. I worked on myself, and my knowledge of the gay community. In between classes, I wasn’t gossiping with anyone but the queer theory books that arrived every week from Amazon. I wasn’t admiring thumbnails on Grindr, but rather staring into the mirror for hours convincing myself that I was beautiful.

The once crooked teeth that I hated, were endearing. My acne was clearing up, and I chopped off my curls. The parts of my naked body that I once hated, transformed into a temple that I celebrated. And while it is easy to write these transformations down, the hours of examining my body and constructing my idea of beauty was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It took a majority of my undergrad to fully accept my body, and while there are still things I would like to change, I love me.

I love the way my earlobes are attached. I love my low sitting brow. I love the shape of my nose. I love that my beard hides the scars acne left. I love my big nipples. But, all this love comes at a heavy cost.

I, Ryan Howe, love myself so much that the men I find myself attracted to look exactly like me. My first boyfriend could be considered my blonde twin, and was also named Ryan. The arduous task to find beauty in my flaws, transformed my very definition of sexy. I have been unfair to men, who otherwise could have been great lovers or friends.

Now, more work is needed. Conceited as I am these days, I need to push myself into new territories. I live in this body, and I want to experience men with completely different archetypes. I want to know what it’s like feel someones hip bones as I lay beside them. I want to be assaulted by muscles. I want to feel the weight of a big boy crushing me as I lay beneath him. I want to admire a hairless torso and clean shaven face. This is my pledge to stray away from clones of myself, and start loving men with all body types.