Bigorexia - the wave of young men damaging their bodies with steriods to gain big muscles - is founded on a misconception. If they are a guy who wants to attract gals, here's the thing. I say this as a straight biological female. Women, beyond a sense of averageness, don't care what their man looks like. They don't. Once a guy is somewhat average other factors take over. They are looking for a great partner who would make a great father. It's biologically hardwired. Women don't chose mates based on looks. By all means, be healthy, do a sport or whatever makes you feel good... but a lot of women actually don't like big muscles in real life. That's what's real.
When a man has become his good wolf self, as the Cherokee legend tells, he is handsome to every eye and heart.
A handsome man's beauty starts from his hearty loving soul and radiates from there to create his final form.
He was the kind of handsome that got into my bones, that spoke to me of olden times before he'd said a word.
He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice. He was handsome from his generous opinions to the touch of his hand upon my own. I loved the way his voice quickened when he sparkled with a new idea, or was so enjoying one of mine that he lost himself for a moment and quite forgot the mask he wore for others. So I gave him my heart and kept his safe, that's the way it was.
No one feature makes Mark so handsome, though his eyes come close. People often speak of the colour of eyes, as if that were of importance, yet his would be beautiful in any shade. From them comes an intensity, an honesty, a gentleness. Perhaps this is what is meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within; it makes me want to feel how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands follow the curves of my body. As each year passes the lines will deepen upon his face, he will be more handsome still, as if his soul shines through his skin.
He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away. It didn't help that he was so modest with it, it made the girls fall for him all the more. Despite all the opportunity that came his way he was a one-woman-man who prized genuineness and thoughtful conversation above lipstick and high-heels. He was handsome alright, but inside he was beautiful.
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