Remember this statement?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Since my earliest memories, I never found the typical “alpha male” attractive. The overbuilt football players (not knocking all of them — I once married one), the big guys with big muscles, the first-to-mature bullies, the guys who prided themselves on sexual prowess — I didn’t find them attractive.
I couldn’t and still can’t understand what made virgin males unappealing to many females. For my female contemporaries, a male’s lack of experience typically is the kiss of death for a sexual encounter. I, in sharp contrast, loved and love giving a partner his first experiences of any/all things sexual. For me, it enhances intimacy.
Conversations about compliments often raise problems inherent in the double-edged sword of body-focused statements. If we are emphasizing something we like about a man’s body, we also have the opportunity (and the power) to criticize his physical self.
I find the male images in Maxfield Parrish’s paintings compelling. I prefer this artist’s rendering of rather delicate, lean, and naked males to most other male body types. On the other hand, I don’t select men based on body type, nor do I place great importance on the body types of men I love.
I have learned, however, that telling a new lover I find him physically beautiful is a statement often received with disbelief and confusion, sometimes even anger.
Imperfections
My wise mother once told me that we often fall in love with imperfections, the little and not-so-little flaws of the bodies we hold close to us in bed.
She taught me not to seek perfection in my partners. Perfection would be boring, she said, because that would make everyone the same. What is unique to each of us often is found in our flaws.
What use, she asked, would be unconditional love if it were not for the need to accept all aspects of the person to whom we give that love?
How true her statements have been been for me! My father was a lucky man.
I trace the line of my lover’s narrow, uneven shoulders; I take his less-than-huge erection deep into my mouth and into my body; I slide my hands and lips along the lines of his long, too-slender legs and narrow ankles. And I love every inch of him.
If he were a buff, overbuilt man with six-pack abs, I would find a way to love the look which is so different from his. Honestly, I prefer him as he is.
If he grew heavy rather than lean, he would remain attractive to me.
The first time I undressed him, I explored his body with mouth and hands, learning the new landscape. I told him that I loved his body, found him beautiful.
That compliment elicited a deer-in-headlights look. He didn’t believe me. He knew he didn’t conform to the model of maleness held by our culture.
Whatever he had not experienced, I gave with great pleasure. That is, after I succeeded in breaking through the walls of pretense he had used to disguise what he saw as weaknesses and I saw as deliciously inviting opportunities.
In some ways, his naked body is a bit androgynous, except for that place between his legs which awakens so quickly when he’s with me. I love talking with him because he’s bright, captivated by ideas which he shares generously while always carrying an erotic charge.
The problem with complimenting him about his body was twofold. First, it was difficult for him to believe me since what I said ran counter to anything else he’d been told. Second, the fact that I focused on his body resulted in his intensified efforts to improve it with an obsessive exercise regimen. Telling him how much I enjoyed the look of his body backfired at first. Instead of self-acceptance he rushed to self-improvement.
He railed at my language. He thought that my use of “beautiful” was feminizing. I explained that I don’t see it that way. In the beginning, he was uncomfortable with my terms of endearment. When I called him “baby,” he became tense.
There is a scene in one of the Rocky films in which a trainer calls the tough Rocky Balboa “babe” or “baby.” The Rocky character reminds me and my sister of our gentle, loving dad, who also tried boxing until he was KO’d and for whom our mother used pet names and various terms of endearment. Many of the issues that arise from compliments also permeate what is “permissible” language.
We need large-scale cultural changes to help young boys avoid homophobia and to recognize that they don’t need to conform to a stereotypical male image in order to be desired and loved.
Some Suggestions
I was not deterred from complimenting my lover about his body. These were my perceptions which were not open to change simply because he had been unable to see himself through eyes like mine.
He tells me now that what I persisted in saying eventually changed his self-perceptions for the better. Finally, he felt comfortable in his skin. He even has taken the leap of telling certain friends that I call his body beautiful. To his surprise, some of them agreed.
I have learned some things from loving men whose bodies don’t fit the cultural norm. These men include a couple of male dancers who had noticeably wide hips, large butts, and narrow upper bodies.
Here are some suggestions for complimenting men about their bodies since I believe that the benefits can outweigh the risks:
- Make only statements that are HONEST, about which you are SINCERE. Explain that you speak from your perspective, which is unique to you.
- It is often a good idea to talk with him about how your compliment felt. The time to explore his feelings about this is not when you are in the throes of lovemaking. Save it for later.
- If he feels discomfort about what you said, urge him gently to talk about the origins of the discomfort. Often its roots lie in a very few statements he heard during vulnerable periods in his development.
- In a long-term relationship, decide whether to back off on body compliments or persist in articulating your views. Persistence can pay off if you refrain from overdoing; stay away from forcibly trying to get him to accept your perceptions.
- Find language he can accept. Words like “beautiful” can run against the grain so strongly that the content of the compliment will not be received as you intended.
- The fallback option always is love. Try telling him that because you love him, you love all of him. All includes his body.
In Summary
Body compliments are a double-edged sword. However, much the same is true of any other compliments we might give.
I tell a lover that I take great pleasure in hearing his views on a topic. A day later, he tells tell me that he just said something stupid. I tell a different man that his artistic performances move me to tears. The next time, he is hyper-critical and tells me about all the imperfections in his performance.
Our culture feeds on comparisons, with media promoting impossible photoshopped images as the ideals to which we should aspire. These ideals always promote what is socially sanctioned perfection.
As for me, I enjoy the uniqueness of the men I have loved. Perfection is not what I seek nor what I ever have wanted in a man.
Perhaps it is time that we begin to accept new notions of masculinity that include an appreciation of a broader range of physical attributes. The archaic masculine/feminine dichotomy finally is dying. Only within the context of these changes will men be better able to accept our compliments about their bodies without the resistance we encounter now.
(Please see my other and future articles about relationships, sexualities, masculinities, CPTSD, intimacy, mental wellness, intimacy and whatever else makes us humans happy. I can be reached at [email protected].)
Many thanks for reading!
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism | Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box | The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer | What We Talk About When We Talk About Men |
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Photo credit: Leo Abdelnaby on Unsplash