![]() Tumblr.Īnd I don’t mean that you will actually meet extremely good-looking men who spend their time updating their soft grunge image blog, because they don’t exist. Also, many of them tend to be every shade of creepy around women who invade their sweat-stalactite-dotted testosterone cavern of a muscle room, so they should really be avoided at all costs. Gyms, but not really.įor every hottie you will spot at the gym - and they do abound, no doubt - your eyes will promptly be assaulted by a guy who has exceeded the limits of his human form and exists as a vaguely person-shaped cloud of uncomfortable grunts, protein powder, visible veins, and disdainful looks at people who are not equally muscular. If you actually happen to meet up with one in a real-life date, expect them to burst into a wisp of pink smoke before your very eyes as a cold, metallic voice echoes around you “You thought you would meet a decent guy on OkCupid, but you will die alone, crushed under the weight of your own cats!” followed by a cackle. Generally speaking, these men are constructs of our overactive imaginations and a faulty few lines of code. You look at their profile with an unnerving mix of excitement and suspicion, unsure of how someone who is in possession of both a well-defined jawline and a reading comprehension superior to the 8th grade is finding themselves looking for romance on the internet. ![]() Genuinely hot, desirable, not-batshit-insane guys on dating websites are the unicorns of the online world. Extremely rarely, on online dating websites. Also, please don’t make fun of his tattoo when he gets naked, he got it when he was drunk and 18 in Tijuana and as soon as he gets a little bit of money, he is headed to the laser removal clinic tout de suite. He is here to listen to exactly 4.5 minutes of your innermost hopes and dreams, at which point he expects to be repaid in tender, Bon Iver-esque sex. They are looking for a heaving chest upon which to rest their weary soul, gnawed at by the unsuccessful job search and their parents’ increasing disbelief over the self-imposed job title of “freelance media consultant.” Though he may not be built like a Greek statue, what he lacks in muscle definition, he makes up for in feigned interest in reading your poetry. ![]() ![]() This is the hideout for all those unemployed hotties with a lil’ bit of scruff and the kind of eyes which bore straight into your soul/vagina. He’ll be nursing a light beer and looking generally defeated - go propose unexplained oral sex followed by a shoe-shine. Is he more of a Wall Street Journal bro, or a Village Voice stud? (Just kidding, no one with a job reads The Village Voice.) If you are interested in snaring one of these ubiquitious-yet-mysterious hotties, there is no better place than the happy hour at the financial district’s most neutral American-themed bar. (Minus the murder, but perhaps plus an implication of the murder, if you’re into all of that terrible 50 Shades-style misguided S&M.) The Morning Commute Hottie is a quiet one, categorized only by his choice of newspaper for his daily read. Are you into the Mad Men look? Are you all about that perfect level of corporate-acceptable hotness that hints at a diversified stock portfolio and reasonably-manscaped pubes? Well, get on the morning metro in the business district of your local Big City, because it is simply teeming with a thousand carbon copies of the Patrick Bateman type of your dreams. ![]()
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