i remember entering puberty and aside from all the attendant characteristics of performing proto-masculinity (“i can burp the alphabet”, “i can spit the farthest”), one form stands out in memory lately: the comradery around discussing the others we found “hot”. others in our class/school, celebrities, media characters, etc. one invariably wanted to be in agreement with the groupthink, with maybe some slight variation to side-step conflict. not that Christie Brinkley would mind that she must marry my friend so I could marry Kathy Ireland. of course some 40 year old international model would be enchanted to hold my 11 year old, b’snotted and moistened hand until i needed to open my velcro wallet and pay for the packet of grape flavored Big League Chew we would be sharing in the neon green Lambo.

at some point in maturity, i realized the amount of people who gave a shit if i am physically attracted to any specific person or general type of person is statistically zero. it’s completely wild to me that anyone over the age of like 14 makes a big public deal and even maybe crafts their entire public persona/brand from who they are physically attracted to. it feels like it’s some calculating douchey guy catering to an audience of 10 year old boys with a garnish of insecure, immature teenagers.