Picture this: You open Instagram for “just a minute,” and three hours later, you’re knee-deep in a shirtless spiral, staring at an endless grid of men who look like they’ve been carved by Zeus, spray-tanned by Apollo, and Photoshopped by Beyoncé’s lighting team.
Meanwhile, you’re still in yesterday’s sweatpants, eating peanut butter straight from the jar. With a spoon. (If you used a fork, we need to talk.)
Welcome to the paradox of being a gay man online: in real life, we know beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. But on social media? Apparently, it only comes in “under 8% body fat.”