On Being Good God-Damn Good-Looking

I recently cut my hair. Drastically. Cut fucking loads off. And I look much better for it. (You’re goddamn right, shout back the chorus.)

This is a problem for me, a really big problem, because I don’t like having to deal with the fact that I am, comparatively, a handsome man.

Now, I’m not being arrogant, I’m not claiming I’m a Gosling or a Depp or a James*, I’m just pointing out (to those of you sat at the back) that compared to your average man on the bus, tube, catwalk, I’m god-damn good-looking. It’s the truth. Let’s not be meek when we don’t have to be.

People probably look at me, watch me, salivate over me, on the street, and think, “Look at that sexy bastard, he must be a confident sonuffabitch” – but no, that’s not the case. I spent the vast majority of my life not being handsome – having giant hair, giant glasses, shit clothes, other things genuinely physical – until all of a sudden, as a young adult, I was good to see.

So as an idea, it’s nice, I like the idea of being handsome, but the reality is quite different. Having not been attractive to anyone in my formative years, I absolutely do not self-identify as good-looking. I get confused, not erections, when I look in the mirror and see a man this bootilicious looking back at me. That’s not who it’s supposed to be.

So I try and counter that, avoid that, by not bothering to cut my hair, not caring about how I dress, whatever, because I yearn for a simpler time when I didn’t have to worry about how I looked because the answer was always, “Shit”. Whereas now, I feel a responsibility to the world to entertain, enthral you with my beauty…

So I’m trying again. For a bit.

I’m handsome. You all know it, you’ve all accepted it. It’s time I did too.

Let’s reassess the old self-image.

__________________

*I am here referring to, of course, Duncan James from Blue.