New stirrings explored behind closed doors, he sallies out onto neighbouring streets
by force of nature like some puppy tripping over his budding dick. And strangely
accessible, malleable whilst treading paths untried, wholesome with a twinkle that entices.
In his high-street labels - nothing fancy - baseball cap and jeans or trackies: he's ten a
penny and I'm in for a pound.
It's precisely the lack of model looks, exclusive labels and poncy airs that make
our ordinary, regular hero the raunch he is - nothing to distract from basic beauty
and raw appeal. Why strike a pose when such a natural?
And the clincher for the case is this and proof indeed of where the real horn lies:
celebrities have - in recent years, and responding to that small familiar screen
in every corner - fought to eschew their glamorous ways and mimic the guy across the way,
even though they were never in contention.
Just think of those men that in the past you may have craved for: the members of JLS or Blue;
the sexy boys of the Premier League such as James Maddison or Aaron Ramsdale;
American superstars like Cameron Monaghan or Adam Levine; or even our confirmed gay favourites -
Matt Bomer and Russell Tovey. With any of them we can only just marvel at the unlikely and the unobtainable.
You shouldn't allow yourself to be fooled or lulled: You're better
off by far going straight for the original - your very own homely star over the
road. Ah yes: the proverbial, fetishised and freshly Phallic Boy Next Door, so near
and yet so far - ironically elevated to the mythical and untouchable, yet still
made flesh in all his glorious forms but an arm's length away.
So shut your mag and tear that poster down. Turn off the telly and open your eyes
to what's on your own doorstep.
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